Day Is the Crime, Night Is the Sin

As the bird flew joyfully

From the very beginning of a horizon

Escorting the rise of the sun from the end of the night

A young man stood at a gate, leaning with his leg

Supporting his wanting for an eternal shine

Appearing far from the narrowest part of the street

Neglecting the sacred spot in his heart

Willing to confide a quiet crime

Unexplainable imagination slide to his mind

Constructing a wicked nasty fantasy

As the shine creepily rise and touching his covered arm

And when the ray dimmed and vanished rapidly

His mind continuously dreaming

Before he can even sleep in his beauty bed

Envisioning the extended form

Of the crime at the day

To the sin in the middle of the night

This poem I wrote according to my own experience on one particular day. I really hope the day will be as I wished and it really came true and it apparently becoming more than expected. Hope you guys can understand and my English is bad, so don't bother the grammar error and all related.