The sun comes up again
just in time to begin your routine that you don’t actually enjoy.
It’s really quite getting to you now and you’re starting to feel
hopeless.
Because you are, says your mind,
so you must be; you’d never lie to yourself.
You get up and do things that make little sense but you do them anyway because
maybe
they’ll make more sense this time.
Some people reveal themselves, and later,
you reveal yourself,
which is always a mistake because it makes them fade like the summertime
and you let them.
Nobody knows why but it’s probably because you’re hopeless.
The headpains should be too much for you to deserve
but you pull it off somehow.
And at a time like this,
the millionth time,
how do you forgive yourself?

You don’t.
Then the sun comes up
again