In the Dawn of Mourning

In the dawn of morning I lay awake,
considering everything I am supposed to take.
The inequality that I face,
and the unfairness of my fate.
I dare not say what shall be
because this may just upset me.
Even more still I cry.
Will it never end?
I died again today,
I must state,
both inside and out.
For my mind lost all,
and my skin grew dull.
You may be confused as am I,
but to get this is to be inside.
If you were inside,
though you may regret that you came,
you may suffer my same fate.
For again I sail away in the mindset of blah.

In the dawn of mourning I say to myslf that I must live today or all shall fail,
so I suffer another day as I may or may not need the bleeding inside.
Internal bleeding you ask?
Well yes and no.
This emotion I call bleeding is, as I describe it, the suffering within my head
that occurs when I scream at myself.
Why scream?
Because I am ashamed, don't you see?
I am in pain,
and I am ashamed.

In the dawn of morning I lay awake,
dreaming of the happiness I once believed I was supposed to have.
I now see that my only destiny
is to suffer when others do and multiply it with my own.
My destiny is to spare others from the fate that I shall never be able to fight.
I died another day in the rotting shell I call my body,
but yet I live as strongly as everyone else in this mask I call my face.
I shall never mend in the way that I should,
but I will put a bandaid over my deep cut,
so that I may ease the pain in company of others,
but, the second I am alone the bandaid will always fall,
and the rain will blow again.

In the dawn of mourning I shall find the light again in some way, shape, or form,
and I shall shine as bright as the light does when you first turn it on after darkness-adjusted eyes,
but once again I will fall back and cringe away into the darkness I call my home.
For this is where I want to be,
despite all that place does to me.
In a way I enjoy the suffering when I am alone,
it's when I'm in the company of another that I wish to be free.
I do not want others to mourn over me
as I do to myself.
I need them too much.
So I stay in my shellm
and withdrawl from the world most are in,
and creep into my own little corner of my brain where the darkness crowds me.

In the dawn of morning I fall.

In the dawn of mourning I call.

In the dawn of morning I climb to the top and out of the ditch.

In the dawn of mourning I catch my breath and jump back in,
but all the while
I am wishing to survive only in my ditch and nowhere else.

In the dawn of morning I am blinded by the light that I almost refuse to run to,
but everyone makes it so I have to pull through.

So once again I state
that in the dawn of mourning when I again wake,
I will rise to the occasion that I am forced to take,
and I force myself to live hoping that this will be my last remake.

When the sun finally sets and I am alone in my darkness,
I cry again,
and intake the fears that may never mend.
I live and die everyday,
but somehow I can keep going,
in the next dawn of morning.