With the rise of the morning sun,
the four white walls glow pearl,
the warmth of the rays- so comforting,
cradling me deeper into the bed.
And stronger the light burns,
waking me up- I need more sleep,
dragging myself forwards, I press play and the day proceeds.
Every strike of the hand, at every digit the stick lands,
doesn’t matter what night or what day,
yesterday remains a replica of today.
......
With the rise of the morning sun,
the four white walls glow pearl,
the warmth of the rays- so comforting,
cradling me deeper into the bed.
And stronger the light burns,
waking me up- I need more sleep,
dragging myself forwards, I press play and the day proceeds.
Every strike of the hand, at every digit the stick lands,
doesn’t matter what night or what day,
yesterday remains a replica of today.
......