konvict me

on nights, i sit alone...
with a pen in a hand
& some papers on land.
do write some things
till the beginning of end --
the end of my night
with the beginning of morn
holding a pen in a hand,
yè i sit lone.
thoughts enter my mind
then exit my life
with the beginning of day,
i yearn for the light.
but see, the night comes.
& i wonder, if it "cums".
such misery of life i know...
keep passing through,
sometimes, it's me.
& sometimes, it's who.
my dreams're being shattered,
will they get imbued?
like a wisp of the night,
i have feelings dejavu.
in the lit of first dawn,
oh jesus, i'm blue! so sad. & gloomy.
half lost... confused.
may be, i'm none but konvict accused.

ps.
we're all konvict of.. to our soul
nothin' can change us but thine overall,
perhaps, we need no change
change's terrible. & trouble unchanged. 
the more we long to change,
the more we sunk in pain.
& when we stop chasing things around,
yeah... sometimes, we find oneselves being lamed.