In the foggy mind of dawn,

where forgiveness comes as easy as a sunrise

and numbers take on a new meaning,

There are multiples of minutes each time I hit snooze.

Somehow, I am  not at my most decisive best.

They got it all wrong about the start of day

Awakening the senses,

It was just meant to be an endless,

meaningless series of negotiations,

With nobody.

And I chastise myself at dusk,

promises and promises to awaken

not my sympathies at daybreak.



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