Mediocrity

Lying awake in her bed
The old clock ticked the night’s last lullaby
The ceiling’s mediocre sighs
Replaced by the stars in her head

There she stood with no foes
Darkness hiding the frowning faces
Obliviously, she skipped them all in morse
Feeling glad, her mind so mad
Never has she felt so grand

Wafting clouds paved the way
For the moon and stars to bid their ways
Seconds counted, and minutes timed
For the sun to rise with all its might

Mesmerized, she stood
Capturing all its hues
Imprinting it, did her good
Tickling away all her blues

All it took was a deafening sound
For her to wake up to the ceiling
Stagnant and mediocre in its way
Reminding her of life’s imbecile sway.