Morning Poem by Hell 'Farya

Morning,
How thy grip hath held down fortunes,
Sent men out griping in ruins,
Remorseless it dances to the tunes,
Of their sonorous barritone of runes,
Oh, morning - our tale, it's pasquins.

Morning,
Where shadows wane and whispers bloom,
Light you casted upon the gloom,
And with every dawn, a chance to loom,
Through veils of doubt we wake to consume,
With you lies promises of new beginnings,
Oh, morning - beneath your sun, our spirit sings.

Morning,
Awakened dreams on golden beams,
A blank canvas, anew for hopeful schemes,
In every heart you made a flicker gleams,
Rooster crows, a chance for the world redeems,
And so we shalt rise to embrace the day,
Oh, morning - you chase the night away.

Oh, morning - one sighed.
Oh, morning - another whined