some days the morning isn’t welcome,
the sun too bright,world too loud,
it can take all you have inside you,
just to stand up,move around.
head bowed,it refuses to rise up,
eyes wont leave the floor,
shoulders stoop all by thier own,
like a slug ,aim for the door.
sleep is what you crave for,
no awareness ,no thought, oblivion.
perhaps things will be better tomorrow?
I just need to get through this one.

This poem was written/submitted by lynne hannah cannon.