When I can't sleep,
Which happens to be quite often,
I sit by the window and wait for the sun to rise
My favorite
Are the cold mornings
perhaps with the soft pitter-patter of rain on the roof
And the chirping of birds
When the sunlight slowly starts to creep through and engulf my room
I watch as the soft hues of pinks and yellows and reds and oranges
Kiss the surface of my many plants
And I am wrapped up cozy in a blanket
And its deathly quiet except for the sounds of nature and the barely noticeable sound of my breathing
The sun seems to move so terribly and irritably slow
But in a mere blink the whole sky has changed drastically
As much as I hate for the sun to agonizingly creep up for what seems an eternity,
I know when it rises my tranquility is gone and I will wish it to have moved even slower
You see,
I love the mornings
Where everything is peaceful and calm
And I have no responsibilities for that small moment of time
But I hate the mornings
Where I have to get up and face reality
It's those mornings that make me wish my "barely noticeable" breathing was completely nonexistent.
And it seems
That the mornings I dread
Come more often
Than the mornings I love
~S~
YOU ARE READING
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PoetryA poem book with original poems written by me. Covers a variety of different topics as it is a representation of life as I live and experience it. [Poems that aren't mine will credit the original author] //tw//: self harm, depression, suicidal tho...
