The Dusk

This poem is for my friends over there who, at the end of everyday, have beautiful stories to say why they didn't do what they wanted to


The tunnels; dark and dead, 
The roads covered with mud. 
And the bells ; silent with rust,
My eyes blind with this mist.
All the day, I dream and dream,
Of love and passion I' d swim.
My legs are weak and thin,
Its hard for me to stand and win.
The head is heavy with fear, 
And my voice weak as ever.
I dare not to fight for myself, 
It was pain for me to engulf.
Into my dreams, Into my world,
I walk weak as a stranger and old.
Sorry for those friends over there, 
There is nothing I did anywhere. 
Some men born to be something,
One like me, will never begin living. 
The tunnels; dark and dead, 
And the sky, calm and red.
The birds hurrying to nest,
And the day getting ready to rest,
I am just alone at the doors,
Waiting for the end of the hours.
And when I look back into books,
My life seems just full of words. 
I never did what I said,
I was never made of what I liked.
This is me , just another loser,
Life is but only once, whats so ever.

-Aroon Che