Dawn of the day

In the approach of devilish storm
Seeming to affect in every form
Its myself, I'm afraid of most
Devoid peace, I may turn into ghost

Uncontrolled beast,if I remain awhile
I will drown deep in pessimism pile
With no drop of hope, I remain dry
For every hope drop is squeezed when I cry

I can pay no heed to the advice of another
For its solely my voice Which makes me bother
It roars stability, I should ensure
Non devil it is, better the cure

Withered layer, this storm peels away
New and pure part will stay
Dumping waste old methods at bay
Again rises the sun, at the Dawn of the day.