The fan

It blows. And soon, It’s cold. I dream. 

For nights, the ire, they bring, to fight. 

The sting of noise, it hinders, not.

 The freeze, I fear. My steed, he’ll rise

 as I go down. I close my eyes

And then I drown. The world awoke

The night is here to rescue me. 

I enter worlds of not, they laugh

and taunt, I drain myself alone. 

 a child makes a man in time,

 but man is not a child’s clone. 

As we can be as cold as winds,

Our dreams release and calm our sins. 

I dream again, the rays, they come. 

A broken light, cared not, by some. 

What’s real, it whispers now and bursts. 

The day arrives.