I wrote the first few lines by impulse before realizing how ironic it was.
Maybe the sun will set tomorrow
And bring some darkness to this light
My eyes now burn from the ashes,
And my lungs still beg for dusk.
How I wish the day were over,
To come completely to an end.
A brief pause, even,
To let my blistered body mend.
Why do children wish for morning?
Why do they want the sun?
The heat is overwhelming,
But the day’s already begun.
Only shade shall end the fire,
The blazing bruise of soul.
It will salvage the last remains
That the raging inferno stole.
My family now live as ashes,
As vestiges in the sand.
Maybe the sun will set tomorrow,
On destiny Heaven has planned.
