The mornings come naturally now.
I get up and face the hope.
My sleeping bliss letting me forget.
I hold on to that bliss,
at moments I wish I didn’t,
at points I wish it wasn’t there.
Yet somehow I always wake,
with it at my side.
I hate how it fades.
I hate how that feels.
I hate how it disappears.
I hate it when it leaves me,
to make me face whats not there.
Though sometimes what I hate the most,
is at night when I fall asleep,
because I know it will be back as soon as I wake.