As day light rise, it tends to die

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Something from the lost soul, hopeless, faithless, as it tries to die, but gets awaken every time the sun rise... And then it dies...

With every sun rise, darkness dies. All the feelings inside, buried by the shadows of dark. The midnight fights, the devils in our minds, that anger, the unbeatable pride. As day light rise, hope begins to cry, and wash away the uncertain crimes. The sky so blue, the sun has shined. Is it true, that feelings die? Or it gets buried inside, somewhere deeply beneath our souls, that tends to fry , all the reasons we hide, the equities in our minds, the broken spirit, the dreams that arise, and tends to vanish and just die. What is life? A beautiful lie? Or a nightmare that seams not to end, hunting everything off our inside. The blood, the sweat and the tears, the acceptance of difference, the uncertainties of life. Shall we cry? Or shall we just die, every time day light dies? All those sleepless nights, the battles that arise, the dignity and the pride. Our souls scream, as we bury them alive. Spirit’s drained, punished by the acts of our minds. We become prisoners, begging for our lives. We pray to Gods, hoping they will identify, solve and protect, the remaining pieces, broken shattered inside. The growth and evolvement never comes without a fight. And feelings are born, just to die. Life remains a dream, on the road of death, as death awaits it’s pride. Are we punished for our acts? Or our past lives? All the questions unidentified, all the pain left inside. Shall we cry, or shall we die? Shall we scream? Or shall we fight? It’s only the last breath that seams, the reason we fear, loosing our lives. But we die…