Good Morning

Good morning, they say

And I'll say it back

But I still desire unconsciousness

Not because I need the rest

Although I do

 

But I stay on my feet anyway

Aware of my struggle to

Go another day

Feeling the weight 

That keeps my mind from thinking straight 

 

I won't lie about it 

I'm quite straight now, if you will

My limbs are finally clean

I see them when I get dressed 

But that doesn't change the fact 

That I'm still utterly depressed

 

Not you, but I, am a hopeless case

It's been five years since I've felt great 

This claimed phase 

Is getting quite boring 

It is not a good morning 

And I fear it will never be 

 

But if hope comes in doses

I won't reject the remedy 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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