Half an hour ‘til class.
Still haven’t slept.
The night was long —
mind too loud, heart too heavy,
eyes too open.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary.
It rains,
and the wind never seems to tire.
The vine still clings to the crumbling wall,
but with every gust, the dead leaves fall.
The day feels like a whisper —
quiet, grey, and waiting to pass.
But I know this much:
After rain, the sky clears.
After pain, comes peace.
After long nights,
there is still morning.
So here I am.
Tired, maybe.
But still here.
Good morning, people.
Let’s keep going.
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