It was all the same,
Morning to Morning,
Night to night.
The meaning of beatitude did not exist in me,
Only bleakness enriches my soul.

Little joys in dogs and toys did not entice me,
Neither did the florishing perfums of stores after stores.
A smiles started to become a fabricated motion of crinkling the corners of my cheeks.
Limelight staunched ,
Power in my hands,
And the world at my feet.

The world was no longer colorful,
With hopes and dreams.
Red and blue.
Clouded and pricked.
Black and white.
Vision gray.

It was all the same.
Morning to Morning,
night to night.
My purpose,
The meaning,
Vanished like spring.
It blooomed, it peaked, it died.

It was all the same.
Everything around me turned gray.