Colourless Ideas

Twas a night so rough he wasn't sure he'd endure,
The tirades of dear daddy, mum mute, ever demure,
How the red glare of a failed paper, obscured the splendour of shades he'd splurged;
Won't be the same by next morrow, he awaits the sun to emerge.

He calls out to the stars above, he gauges the twisted ways,
Repents failed theatrics, monologues, alas couldn't save the day...
So he works hard as he's told, promised plenty, perhaps bluffed,
As graduate he's trained to question, but never quite bravely enough.

Long hard day at work again, he's never liked the drive back home;
Who cares how it is for who wields the whip, and guards the iron throne?
Condemned to years of ethical servitude, and alcoholic reminiscing,
Yet all the nights he's probed abundance, he never found what's truly missing.

So twilight veils the departed surplus, bares what was once obscured,
The cry of souls damned to different times, yet cursed to the same flow.
"There's time till dark", he mutters meekly, burdened with the truth of lies,
Thus wisdom unlearned, old fingers pen words new realised.