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