Morning Sun (Waste)

Weary morning sun,

tell me what I've done

to look at you, the way I do.

This world... it weighs a ton.

I struggle how to pen the words

that softly dare to go unheard.

It's only now these thoughts allow

me to expound upon the absurd.

Stitched-together, idle lines,

whispers in the winds of time.

Again I recall, here against the wall,

this realm I once believed was mine.

Shadows have crept into my head,

bound me within my lonesome bed.

The lark that sings, inside my dreams,

I wake up only to find is dead.

Here I walk this empty road,

brink of the abyss carelessly towed.

"Come disappear into the embracing drear,

and succumb to the debt that's long been owed."

Oh wistful, morning sun,

where does your strength come from?

I've tried and tried to personify

the light you share without interruption.

But every time I get a taste -

a precious glimpse of the life I chase -

here comes a cloud, to once again shroud,

this life of mine that's so far a waste.