A cloud of dust, blocks the horizon
Seeded with heavy mist of pessimism
Tears of anxieties and uncertainties
Isn’t it too early to let go and succumb?
Morning is the best part of day
Though sometimes best thing comes
At noon or what we call the mid-day
But most would give up and resign
Isn’t it too early to let go and succumb?
At dusk, you’re restless and thrown
Hope fades and will resort to self-pity
Weep, crawl and drag yourself down
Drown yourself and dwell in apathy
Isn’t it too early to let go and succumb?
A day may pass and the sun won’t shine
But a week has seven days, thirty in a month
There is “One Day” for you; it’s all in its time
Enough of the drama, be alive and get out
One day it will come, wait for your turn
