Morning Dew

23rd February, 2011.

Staring at the landscape through the blue horizon.
I feel despicable, for the perverted life,
i've gotten myself into.
Drain of self-esteem, I'm muddled.

My legs rest on the damp muddy earth.
Hands by my waist, a strange feeling lurked;
portraits hanging in my head,
I start to jog towards the close.

Maneuvering my way on the pavement, I wobble as I jog;
almost stumbling over the pebbles,
scattered vastly all around the silent
boulevard with a spooky atmosphere.

In my despondency, I thought of life
vanished through obscure dreams.
Fragments of trust shrink my vague goals;
shaming my imperious trait.

Slowly my mind went adrift to the cars moving;
faster than their shadow.
Houses ventilated by the bloom of the morning gust.
Now whisked away from my musings.

I try to be idealistic, as long as I breath,
this breeze of the morning jog,
will forever remain in my nostalgic state of conception.

(c) Y-MAG