Poetry world

A freezing dawn of January,

Mystique mist covering the itinerary,

Chilling air reaching inside the cloths,

And then I heard soft whispers,

Saying �Don't go back to sleep�

I thought it�s an illusion,

And it�s only my mind�s creation,

But I heard it again,

Now in a familiar voice,

Saying �Don't go back to sleep�




It kept saying the mystique,

After a while my tears roll down,

At nights, I keep my cellphone under my pillow,

And put some of the soft music on volume very low,

I believe it can bring some sleep in my eyes,

And it becomes stronger when I fall asleep in no time...

Thoughts refuse to trouble me throughout night,

They look helpless and give up in this fight�

I lay on bad, keeping my hand on my forehead,

Forgetting the problems I ever had,

The