In the morning

It is the morning, nothing but a friend and a guitar
A mystic era upstairs, baffled to the thoughts
Frozen like the water in wretched blood.
The blue bird singing
black bird cawing.
I imagine times of loss
Of hair grazing by
Excitement in a smile
Taking in those
Every moment
a subtle moment.
Every second beautiful
Today is tomorrow
Waiting is only a game
Lost.
Ever get awkward?
where spoken words cannot be explained
So awkward
you are unsure
lost in the moment
of a feeble drunk mind
making decisions.
Sometimes what must be done,
has to be done
To make everyone happier,
Sometimes awkward is good.