Somehow, at 6 a.m,
or whenever it is
that the Sun returns again,
the taste & the smell
of the air hitting at the back
of my throat, always
fills me with hope.
Sometimes though
hope makes everything worse.
Somehow, at 6 a.m,
or whenever it is
that the Sun returns again,
the taste & the smell
of the air hitting at the back
of my throat, always
fills me with hope.
Sometimes though
hope makes everything worse.