She wakes to the same familiar ache,
With no vision of what the day might take.
Stepping down from the warmth of her bed,
Toward the brown door where her shadows are fed.
“Today will be good, just like the rest,”
She whispers to hope, put to the test.
But hope is a vapor, lost to the night,
As stillness is swallowed by a gathering blight.
One by one, the moments descend,
Without a pause, without a friend.
A splash of black coffee across her shoe,
The keys left behind, out of her view.
The train pulls away, a ghost on the track,
The weight of the morning begins to stack.
Is she broken? Oh, certainly not.
Though her heart is weary of the battle she’s fought,
She does not retreat, she does not turn back.
Instead, she finds light in the middle of black.
She slides the headphones over her ears,
Drowning the chaos, the silence, the fears.
With a favorite song and a book in her hand,
She builds her own peace in a fractured land.
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:15 AM UTC
It draws me in without a word
The coziest place when I’m weary
Who
Are they? No, I say no
This rest grows ever shorter
It never ends until I fall asleep
Morning comes, yet nothing changes
This feeling remains the same
But my body must keep working
Greeting the day with weary eyes
I long for that bed
I want to reach it quickly at every moment
But the universe is increasingly against me
It’s okay, there’s still tonight
Apr 24
Apr 24, 2026 at 11:00 AM UTC