Sitting on my bed,
thoughts were grumbling on
my head

Mist of misery over my face,
like a withered flower inside a

Thirsty for a drop of hope,
wishing for a better

Walking the road of uncertainty,
acting brave, even without a

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

I opened the window's curtain,
To see the light in every thing
that is uncertain.