Reflecting

Reflecting

I'm sitting by the window
in a sullen Sunday gloom,
watching darkness quietly
engulf my afternoon.

I know there is no point to it
it's hard for me to stay,
when walls turn shades of ochre
as the sunlight fades away.

This foulness overtakes me
my mood is so forlorn,
it often makes me wonder
why some of us are born.

Little things will make us mad
as anger turns to rage,
no matter what we try to do
we're on a different page.

Those that seem to mean the most
may be headed for their doom,
while most of us sit quietly,
reflecting in our room.

© Copyright 2006 T.L.Finch (UN: t.l.finch at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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