Monday, 5 March 2012

Most Mornings

Most mornings, I find new ways to survive, thinking how to get through the day.
My stomach pains, I wipe it's tears, my legs weaken, I find comfort when seated.
My mouth, dry. I chew water in hope that it tricks.
And as each day pass, I pray, trying to understand the reason.
The answer, yet to come.
I am patient.
Most mornings, I do not speak, for talking requires energy that I cannot afford to loose so early so most mornings, I am silent.

This will not be forever.