Good Night

Empty nights of empty lives
Filled with wholesome lack of hopes
A fidgeting mind on unfinished things
And unpursued desires all alike.

Bereft of a listener, I turn to me
And discover my contempt of myself
I wouldn't blame me if I were me
For I've been myself all this while.

Unspoken fears speaking for themselves
Undying desires helplessly dying
Ashamed of all the mighty unaccomplished
I simply turnover and continue wailing within.

Nothing to do, nowhere to go,
None to cry on, nor be disciplined by.
No passers by, and no snide remarks,
Let completely loose yet tied to myself.

But there's one thing that lets me rest,
Letting my pride fall fully onto it.
The sole companion on a sleepless night –
My loving soft pillow that I bury myself in.