Bring Night

A Transformation

Foreboding was the word he used
To describe his current life
A day by day repeat of strain
The glimpse of a friend his one delight

Work, school, food and rest
The only driving force to him
Inspiration towards what comes next
Completely lost and foreign

The dullness in his subtle speech
The blues have reached heightened hues
The luster gone, the floorboard creeks
Settings reflecting on his attitude

The starry sky was masked by blinds
His interest in all the littlest things
Have each faded from his cyclical life
Routine and patterns, the sorrow they bring

A look into the night, a book, a mind,
None have sparked a single thought
The previous person he’d left behind
He begins to search and sought

Yet the days, they come and go,
The bore and apathy have grown old.
Still the cure as months pass by
Simply remains unknown.

As the clock makes rounds the feeling fades
Like the cocoon splits as the days pass
The butterfly freed as it’s shell just decays
A beauteous form that shall ever last

There’s no light at the end without a tunnel
Just as no heaven exists without a hell
You can never rise up if you’ve never stumbled
Prisoners never freed unless locked in a cell

So the question here lies through perception
If his sad sorry state is just nothing more
Or if it’s evolutions purest intentions
To grant this sick state before we can transform