I wake up, wishing I hadn't.
As my eyes open,
they do so whilst dreading the light.
My breath is lead, my lungs are heavy.
My body is unwilling,
as if set in concrete.
Welcoming sweet oblivion,
But still I rise.
-
I wiggle my toes.
I move my feet,
I motivate my fingers..
I arch and stretch,
Forming twisted shapes and figures.
Fighting sweet oblivion,
Because I am needed.

N.H.