9AM
9 Am, You wake. Not to be at work so you wont be late. No, but to put your fist up not to pray, But to go toe to toe with a enemy that never goes away. Arms and legs feel like concrete, The spinel cord is shot with a steel rode. Eyes red and lids weigh a ton, the deep breath you take knowing youre up before the sun.
Steps taken to the kitchen for those who dont drink coffee, each step disconnecting the roots and chains from the bed. Screams from your throat fall on dreaf shoulders, eyes roll and the list gets longer. Hugging your cup of tea lile the only light you see. Many things keeps your hands busy, hobbies that have been built around your cloud. Washing your face and brushing your teeth, make sure youre presentable to the world. Bed, blanket, pillow and sleep. These things you say to yourself on repeat.
You took your meds, you do your chores, you clean the place and your mind is saying "IGNORE THE SORES AND LOSE THIS WAR!" You shrug it off and keep moving, the things that makes you happy are being done. But before you can blink, the sky is dark and the day has ended. Exhausted and feeling guilty, " you didnt do anything! " you mind makes you aware of the things you didnt do. But you know as soon as you get to sleep you know the plan, to get up and fight again at 9am.
Copyright © Dominique Smith | Year Posted 2025
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