I tell myself that
I don't need the
Speed, or some
Rush that drags
Me discordantly

Soul twitches fast in
A morning rush for
Peaceful dreams,
Which I can’t even
Begin to pursue

She, he, won’t let
Me drift heartedly,
So weak that could
Perish if I sneeze
Or if I cough

There’s a shiver
That’s shouting at
Me so harshly and
Coldly but I will tell
It to please, go to bed