Beseach me not in the midnight hour
as the rest of the sun
is not the waking of the flower.
For the beauty of the bloom
is to be seen with alert, open eyes
to inspire courage and love
in the illuminate skies.
However one cannot know
whether it is dark or dawn
without the blinds over the open window
revealing and drawn
but what to do when the light
is just out of grasp
and one pleads for it desperately
with a cry and a gasp
when all that need be done
is to remove the mask from teary eyes
before the beautiful bloom
deep inside dies
yet how can one become
what one cannot comprehend
all that can be done
is to pray for the end.

How?

HOW CAN I GO ON
EVERY DAY
KNOWING THAT I
HATE THE WAY
MY LIFE IS GONE
LOST IN TIME
WAKING EACH DAY
NOT WORTH A DIME
ALL I’M WORTH
IS MY ADDICTION
THE THINGS IT MAKES ME DO
WITHOUT CONVICTION
A SLAVE TO MY LIFE
LOOKING FROM THE OUTSIDE IN
NEVER FREE
FROM THE HOLLOWNESS WITHIN.