And It Walks

Sad is the night that walks past me
Sadder is the day that ignores me
Sad is the evening that pities me unendingly
Saddest is the morning that makes me feel queasy

Giving me the reasons to pass on quietly
Silently stealing hopes from my mental armory
Patiently waiting for the end of weariness
Lurking around me is the Angel stealthily

Another harvest it desires, not dearly
But anything that makes surplus its kitty
Observant it sits across my eye line
Giving me solace, as it stares glowingly

Biding its time, for it has aplenty
It walks around, invisible to everybody
Stopping only to understand the misery
The pain, the suffering, the angst, the agony

Sad is the night that walks past me
Sadder is the day that ignores me
Sad is the evening that pities me unendingly
Saddest is the morning that makes me feel queasy