The break-dawn slips through the curtains,
unnoticed,
this is of nights when you cant sleep.
When even music fails,
refusing to assist the slumber gods,
when a toss and a turn is all that remains.
The warmth of the beds,
the fluff of the pillow fails you,
Stoic.
Birds begin their morning chirp.
They will never gain your forgiveness,
Yes. You will make your kill.
Your eyes,
seem adamant,
they will not close.
You curse,
you rant,
why do you deserve this??
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