Morning Strikes

Morning strikes
A hammer to the lung
O'clock fingers
Piercing through the skull
Dreams deep-woven
Nightly numb the brain
With mirror truths
That fear the eye of day

Then suddenly
Kind slumber looses grip
Conscious collides
Against the heart of it
Bashed to pieces
It scrambles from the blur
To gather bits
Which cut into the nerves

Flailing in shards
Sends shrapnel through the veins
Giving up quiet
Ghosts real life away
But even when
The morning gently wakes
No matter what
The dawn will always break

Written early 2000s. It’s about how jarring it is to be suddenly woken up by an alarm clock. I’m…. not exactly a morning person.

everyday life, musings, short, rhyming