Every corner identical
Every nook and cranny
Every window
All the same.
What else is new?
What else is there?
Every face bore the same mark
Of
Sullen expressions
Weighed by the
Torment of tomorrow
Every word uttered, mean the same thing
Of
The certainty of the uncertain
Dying light.
All hopes hallow.
Every day an iteration of yesterday
Of
Routine.
After.
Routine.
After.
Routine.
A delirious roulette
Spinning towards the unknown
Even now I think it's all the same
What else is there?
What else is new?
What could there be, when everything's old news?
What then is now?
Every promise uncanny with each other
Of
Hope.
Cure.
And future.
What else is there?
What else is new?
What could there be, when everything's old news?
Every answer remain unchanged
but our hope,
freedom remain unchained
longing for and evermore
what lies ahead?
a tunnel.
a beacon.
What else is there?
What else is new?
What could there be, when everything's old news?
When then is tomorrow?
YOU ARE READING
Labyrinth
PoetryPoems I made during quarantine. A poem compilation about eating, sleeping and other things. I don't know what I have created. Read at your own risk.
