The darkest moments of my life were once those that began each and every day
When bony fingers with twisted knuckles and claws daily dove into the depths of my dreams
Kicking and screaming I was dragged away from the happiest place I'd known
The world I had made my own to be my paradise.

The morning brought me back to my consciousness
The harsh light in my window bombarding me, and I begged to be released
I pleaded with thee to return me to the comfort of the place where nothing is wrong
The place where ordinary flowers bloom and never die, because she is there to give them life.

Each day I had a message for you, the morning, mourning indeed,
A putrid hatred that I spat at you day after day
Until the hatred subsided and gave way to something much worse
A numbness that took away my pain, but left me with nothing to replace it.

So for a long while, a seemingly immeasurably number of days, hours, minutes, and seconds
I went about my day feeling nothing, being nothing, and giving life to nothing,
And how I longed for her to bring life to the flowers for real, so that I may hold them as I once held her
But only in my imaginary place would she be there waiting for me with bouquets beneath her feet

In spite of this torture, I am a hopeful soul, I carry with me the wish of better days
And so I have a new message for the morning, and gratitude for all its done to me:
You have taught me many things, and even as I hated you you brought to me your light every day
You have never given up on me, and I have made it my passion never to give up on myself

One day I will know once again the joy I knew then
One day another tiny hand will place in mine a beautiful bouquet
And as long as I hold her hand in mine, this bouquet will never die, as was all the others' fate
But I will never again wake to such a sweet smell or warm touch, if I refuse again to wake.