The Cycle
It is only at dark, amidst dead silence, when your emotions become vociferous.
Chaotic, de facto and deafening thoughts overwhelm you.
Repeatedly, you think of ways to illuminate the foggy atmosphere,
Alas, you flounder, for your mind is encircled with opaque theories.
It is only at dark, amidst dead silence, when your dissatisfaction is exposed.
It’s well past bedtime, instead you trip in paranoid delusion not willing to be awakened.
The world there seems complete with an un-faked smile and lively existent,
Alas, reality triumphs and unpleasant consciousness prevails.
It is only at dark, amidst dead silence, when you stare with shut eyes.
Desperation coupled with exhaustion and yet you struggle to sleep.
You console, rub your eyes, imitate a sigh of relief.
Alas, it’s already too late not to be uber fatigued.
It is only at dark, amidst dead silence!
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