As I lay in my bed, raising slow,
I think of 24 hours to go.
The day has started, lazy with a drool
Has it lasted for 24 hours full
There were days I remember now,
when up I was like a spring bomb.
But today is not one of those days,
has I still dream of being calm.
I got to the place where I load the routine,
Trying to be unique, in the morning din.
I look for a familiar, with a sweet smile,
I get one back, with a morning hail.
As I reach my stage, I begin my mile,
To make it to five with at least a smile.
A dialogue a conclave with one or two,
I feel like being treated amongst worth few.
In noon it is time for slice to devour,
Imagine! Hardly any hours left to endeavor.
As the clock strikes the beloved hour,
Blessed are those who leave the tower.
I am left in the tower to boil,
Few loyal to aid my toil.
The day goes on with out crazy thoughts
As it lasts for twenty four hours
It is time to go back to my shack,
With thoughts of going back into the sack.
Evening or night I cannot tell,
As I ride partially dead,
Hunger drives me to fix a meal,
As shabby as it is for a princely being.
In night I am calm again,
For tomorrow it will all begin.
A hope, tomorrow will have some exciting quirk,
A thought of another 24 hours lurk.
Jun 7, 2013
Jun 7, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
As I lay in my bed, raising slow,
I think of 24 hours to go.
The day has started, lazy with a drool
Has it lasted for 24 hours full
There were days I remember now,
when up I was like a spring bomb.
But today is not one of those days,
has I still dream of being calm.
I got to the place where I load the routine,
Trying to be unique, in the morning din.
I look for a familiar, with a sweet smile,
I get one back, with a morning hail.
As I reach my stage, I begin my mile,
To make it to five with at least a smile.
A dialogue a conclave with one or two,
I feel like being treated amongst worth few.
In noon it is time for slice to devour,
Imagine! Hardly any hours left to endeavor.
As the clock strikes the beloved hour,
Blessed are those who leave the tower.
I am left in the tower to boil,
Few loyal to aid my toil.
The day goes on with out crazy thoughts
As it lasts for twenty four hours
It is time to go back to my shack,
With thoughts of going back into the sack.
Evening or night I cannot tell,
As I ride partially dead,
Hunger drives me to fix a meal,
As shabby as it is for a princely being.
In night I am calm again,
For tomorrow it will all begin.
A hope, tomorrow will have some exciting quirk,
A thought of another 24 hours lurk.
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