Every morn starts with dawn,
The cheerful melody of the birds song,
Woke him up from the slumber,
How he enjoyed, now he wonders.
The challenge, the fight, the war, the sight,
Of how the day would test his might.
Every hurdle, with grit, he faced,
All of it, how easily, he aced.
The mornings are still the same,
The birds sing the same song,
He cannot filter the bane,
The boy, that was, is long gone.
The fight is tougher, the resolve weaker,
The walls pile higher as he goes wee,
The clocks tick, his life piles up,
He rocks himself to sleep, cocooned in his stale niche.
Thank you Manali M (@khatteemithi) for the end :)
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