Static Mornings

 The walls of these hallowed halls,

Seem grey all of a sudden,

The quad filled of raucous laughter,

Empty, silent, lonely.

The brush that coloured my life,

Burnt perhaps, turned to ash,

All my dreams,

Broken, powdered glass.

The winds that ruffled my hair,

All static, not a leaf turns,

Stripped off of my heart,

My conscience naked & bare.

Where'd I miss,

When did the world pull ahead,

Leaving me lonesome & torn,

Tell me, when did I turn mad?

Things I thought I deserved,

I ran to have them,

But I'm afraid, I forgot, I lost,

Who I was, what I had.