the morning is tired

with dark circles under its eyes

it creeps

into all of us

we don’t want the light

We are haggard

and hungry

for more—

more than the day can give us

and the worn sunrise

rises

like wrinkled hope

on the sheets, of a cloudy bed

Sleepy faces at the gym

are worn

like a bed slept on—too many times

like 10,000 sunrises

forced to rise.

The day

lays claim

to our lives.

The night

spirits us away.

We are sleeping sons and daughters

of death

ready

for our final rest

that will lay us under ground

Our eyes blinking

in the brightest sun

will close

and the red at the backs of our eyes

will be black, forever.

So many questions…

Answers?

None.

We won’t have to wake-up, anymore

Our day

will be done

and the night will take us

under its black beauty.

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