5:52 am on a sunday

here i stand, quietly

5:52 am on a sunday

in this tiny terrace on the third floor

with my phone on one hand

and a cigarette on the other

i lean on the wall

as i watch the sun

slowly overpowering the streetlights

the people getting ready

preparing for another day

i think about what it's like

to escape my tiny little prison

oh what beauty it is

to go about my day

and rediscover the world

i think about the morning walks

a little over a year ago

will the future mirror the same freedom?

i see tomorrow as an unreachable hand

i watch the present longing become insufferable

my hair is long now

it starts to cover my eyes

but my hands are both full

so i guess my vision remains blocked

and my head is still preoccupied.