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…