High

I was on my sofa
Feeling hopeless and out of sorts
While staring at the white cloudy sky
From the closed window,
The white light falling in the room.

Can you blame me?
For trying everything I could and
Then resulting empty-handed?
Yet you still hope for the best
That a miracle could happen.

My eyes would gaze
For an idea or an inspiration.
I would touch the mountain peak
Yet look like as if I’ve been home
All night long.

I would make stories,
Come up with conspiracies.
Thinking I could conquer the world.
Yet have nothing at the end of the day.

I could commit suicide
Or kill myself.
But that hope still ties itself to me,
For that miniscule possibility,
That it’ll happen,
When the time is right.

Till then,
Sit tight and do nothing,
Till you die in misery.

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