The morning

I wake up on the morning of life, coffee I drink without a voice, hurts that silently and I go to the final hour. Gymnastics for the Soul I had planned with a friend - Alas ... did not come with your thoughts foreseen, that I hardly have any money. Finally I go to bed, but with a midnight cry - the pillow absorbs the tears because of his hideous image. It's late - I close my eyes, I press C - for a person with complexes and accounts and lying in the dark world. But morning returns my life lost a portrait. With a ticket for the vacancy and happiness requires order.