Dark

 
The sun is shining any more
When clouds will overcast the sky
No one will open any door
The sedate temper makes us shy
 
The glamour will not stay for sure
wind blows into the human face
to lead the recognition pure
and stop the unscrupulous race
 
the human being seems for long
to be no base for going without saying
but if I should follow my goal alone
still standing here, fighting and staying
 
I would be happy to be like I am
to answer the unknown desire
to wait for the feedback; at the end
I wished your worming by my fire

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