some of the times, maybe a few of the times,
Right before sleep, there are thoughts,
Chilly thoughts, most discomforting ones,
There are no happy endings,
There are no endings, to be honest,
Until you die,
And before that, there are continuous fluctuations,
Sort of a local minima and maxima spread all around,

And right before you try to fall asleep,
This thought about worst lived phases of your life,
Mirroring it, you remind yourself,
Your breath, it is not the present, is it?
But then,
It is deriving a bit of your present, is it not?
Reflection is powerful, more decisive than any consequences,

You see an individual, a set of actions,
Throughout a timeline, grim ones,
Difficult ones, and stupid ones,
The ones you can see through now,
Plain, obvious,
Maybe hopeful once too,
Now nothing more than a crippled regret,

You try to wake up,
Look for an alternate reality,
A world somewhere, for a bit of refuge,
But as is the case with souls searching for it,
All around,
Wandering, travelling,
Getting lost,

But you have known long enough,
In the end, you would be alone,
With the thought again in your head,
Seeking a possible alternative,
Another dimension,
But in the end, the introspections would stir up,
Colluding them perfect morning sun, or
Enhancing the darkness of a moonless night,

It would be there, this reflection,
Yes eased up a bit with the sunny morning,
A fresh breakfast, a cozy lively world,
But you know it would return,

This thought, this unsettled undercurrent,
Asking for more questions,
An explanation may be, living you there,
Helpless, struggling to find a place,
For you, away from yourself,
Far far away, getting lost,
Losing full of yourself,
Into a new unknown,
Seeking freedom from these thoughts,
Ingrained into you, within you,

Until you realize there is no freedom from them,
From these stirrings, cold bits of life,

But then there is always an alternative,
To live through a bit more,
A bit more new experiences,
Make the present a little bit better,

If it is not, maybe, give it some time,
Think through it, tinker with these thoughts,
Maybe in dark sound of sea,
Or in heat, around the marble covered pavement outside,
Alone or not, maybe in a new surroundings,
Maybe, you find relief, an escape,
And you would settled for the introspection,
For not being so much more relevant