Gain

Sultry summer air,
The sun is a supernova blare;
I wander upon the ground,
It is often where I am found.

I look upon the crowd,
A sullen, silenced sound;
I speak often, relaying the notion,
But old Mariah does not accept the notion.

I am beginning to realize why,
Why I go there to cry;
The rest the crowd has attained,
Is the sleep that I long to gain.