Misanthrope

Every morning I wake up and wait

For the day to end as fast as it can 

And the night to come sooner. 

That's why I sleep during the day. 

Night is good for a lonely, broken, 

And misanthropic person. 

At night, I can walk down the street alone

With no cockroaches running beside me.

I can lie on my terrace,

Look at the lost moon

And count the stars. 

I can escape the walls of my room 

That try to strangle me. 

I can talk to Harry and smoke cigarettes,

And we can both laugh on those

Mentally depraved prophets

Until the devilish sun rises again.