Dire Mornings

 Some mornings, 

the alarm rattles you, 

launching into the abyss of the wakeful, 

dire mornings,

they force you to acknowledge that you aren't 

loved enough, 

that you must earn it to live amongst them,

by them, and for them,

dire mornings, 

force you to accept that your life doesn't truly belong to you, 

and so you crawl out of your bed, 

put on mask that's your smile 

And face the day like warriors of the yore, 

And you assure yourself that you will not dire 

in battle of life, 

that you won't live for mornings

that show up without meaning