A wet pillow, a heavy head,
twists and turns, on the bed,
staring at the ceiling,
trying to find a link,
How to evade the sorrow?
How to ‘look forward’ to tomorrow?
The future is certain,
and not necessarily advantageous,
would I have the strength,
to face the coming years?
The question looms in front of me,
And I could have used
the comfort of a friend,
But turns out that when you really need someone
you’re all alone, the broken glass is yours to mend.