Rude awakenings clip my wings.

When the slumber ceases –

The hunger for peace increases.

Fear is fought while tears are caught.

In a dream, I was safe and sound –

But now a scene serene cannot be found.

Alas, it seems I’m too familiar with how this sounds.

So this poem makes known the pain inside my conscious home.

How do I dissipate the hate?

How do I balance the malice?

Only the emerald sky will satisfy the cursed sty in which I lie.

Meanwhile, my morning begins with mourning…