empty wars of midnight
mid of the night
is the time of rebellion.
we put a war with things infront.
and walk away tirelessly.
with abstracts and memories.
we clutch fingers with past.
with chaos. and all our failures.
and never look for the ray
that’d take us out of the dark.
we sleep in the sheets of regrets
when all we should be hugging is joy.
we let our heart beats become a struggle
when they should be some fine music.
we act rebels or we become rebels.
but this all fails – these rebellion acts
when we need them the most.
when at midnight
sadness and just sadness rains
and we’re too tired to hold umbrellas
and we give in!