The Rising Sun
Restlessness consumes me
Sorrow weighs me down
The pain of shame, intrudingly
Follows me around
Rapid flutters in my chest
A twist on “butterflies “
From fear of what comes next
And sight of judging eyes
A great relief, to close my eyes
And shut off all the lights
For, when I sleep, my spirit flies
Short term, I feel, alright ?
But, much too quick
The rising sun
Again, I’m sick
My dreaming, done
It’s time to paint
The day’s facade
I won’t look blank
Or show my “odd”
I’ll paint until
I feel, I’ll blend
And even still
I’ll paint again
I’ll color over
All that’s me
No exposure
They’ll never see
Copyright © Anna Hopper | Year Posted 2021
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