There are days when I cry

though I don’t even know why.

My soul is tired.

Something keeps diminishing its fire. 

It longs for the cold of dew

and craves for the colors of hue.

It’s bored of the pain and strife

and tired of the monotony of life.

It holds a lot in it that needs to release

to achieve tranquility and feel at ease.

It wanders in the places of nothingness

and finds itself there more or less.

It craves for rest till eternity.

Maybe, sleep is the only way to experience serenity.

It needs to clean from its surface all the hate.

Only then will it truly be able to rejuvenate.

Rejuvenate

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