Curled in a quivering ball,
She holds her lips sealed tight.
Her sole goal is to pass the night
Without utterly losing it all.

Fingers pressed to temples,
Eyes shut with all her might,
She waits for dawn's first light
And begs for it to be gentle.

She begs for Time to have mercy
On her worn and wearied soul.
She pleads, beseeches, and cajoles
For Time to find her worthy.

And when the sun's beams
Breach the womb of dawn,
Her exhausted form looks upon
A new day and a new dream.