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S I N Nov 2019
When I wake up in my bed
With aching head
I hesitate from thence arise
With sleepy eyes;
I rub them with my weaken hands;
An itch in glands
From drinking something cold that night
What wasn’t right
And now regretting doing this;
Something amiss
Through haze and mistness of the day,
Of life decay
I follow birds just when they fly
High in the sky,
It remedies my hurting head
I wish was dead
And every morning just the same,
No ‘scape from pain

— The End —