Why do demons
Wake me at dawn
And keep me
From resting my muddled head?

Is it fear of dying
That wakes me from slumber
And shakes my heart
Like a broken whisk

Dying will not be so bad
I think
Not so frightening
After all

Throughout my days
I dream
That life should be better

Though I wake exhausted
From the turmoil of my worries
Reality is never worse than the fear