What

This is... morning gilded in remorse how can I wake unfettered? My life was never my own each day beckons a loosening shackle so I wear my fog and go toward a promise toward myself poking holes in my shell letting light peak in tapers like brilliant baby eyes tiny and immeasurable but this shell never cracks I am a loathsome embryo because I repair it I willed it so I maintain my prison and no magic word can break my will no fear can match my own.