Everyone has them. Bad days. The sun does not rise right. It glows faintly, its warmth is cold.
Strangers. The burden of your suffering.
The good thing about a bad day is that it ends and the next day can only be a better day.
Ghosts that trap souls and recite forgotten pain. Tears and regret. It doesn’t matter if you’re happy or sad.
Rage. A fierce passion for despair.
A blanket of sadness. Open your heart. Open your door in the middle of the night.
Less, or more, like a mourning.
Draw your curtains for warm light. Welcome the repulsive touch of cold light.
In your hands, the baggage of your soul, your fears and mistakes, your heart on your shoulders, your pain and lies.
Two bad days can never be the same. Like fingerprints, bad days never leave the same impression.
