Sitting on my bed,
thoughts were grumbling on
my head
Mist of misery over my face,
like a withered flower inside a
vase
Thirsty for a drop of hope,
wishing for a better
horoscope
Walking the road of uncertainty,
acting brave, even without a
guarantee
Keeps on telling myself to go on,
not to be, a living dead
like an oxymoron
I stood up from my bed,
fixing my thoughts of what's
ahead
I opened the window's curtain,
To see the light in every thing
that is uncertain.