A lowly dawn exposes feelings of regret,
in angst filled notions of hollowness;
I try to conform to what is expected,
but somehow I shut the door to openness.

As the sunlight caresses my weary self,
I still cannot move to today's rhythms;
A daunting task it is to walk the halls,
of a daily life created by cryptic prisms.

If I didn't care I wouldn't be so solemn,
the words seem to tumble from my sorry brain;
Love--a catharsis for many but not for me,
It's a language which can bring such sorrow and pain.

Yet somehow the wounds of the past retreat,
and I'm able to breathe deeply without remorse;
Your tearful face appears briefly before my eyes,
and in salvation I'll avoid this treacherous course.