Dysania
Shrouded and trapped within 4 walls,
bounded by still air and responsibility.
Gazing out into my mind for a beautiful fall,
But awaken by task and hostility,
Never to be free and running.
Well at least the first five of the week.
But rather contented to stay rested and be humming,
On white warm sheets that make bones too weak.
To awaken from infinite possibility is truly a task.
From submergence of consciousness, I flee.
Grateful as light sipped through but still I must ask,
"Why must I awaken slumber, where I'm free?"
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