Mornings

Every morning
is a sadistic thing;

the sacred mystique
of a dream
is stripped naked
by the sharp claws
of the sunbeams.

Every morning
is an incarnation
of a human being
into a primitive beast
as the stories bark out
of our tv screens.

Mornings don’t keep
the night’s promise;
they are the worst shoulders
to cry on.

Mornings exploit the dark
knowing not
the tables
are soon going to turn,

come dusk.

4 thoughts on “Mornings

  1. STJisneverme

    Reminds me of “Another day another fall” Poetry strips naked the poet Within, though a bit grim, very well written Champ🙂 kuch bhi karlayn, the “Sunbeams” glitter out a glow🙂
    P.S, Never stop writing, that’s what you’re made of🙂

  2. STJneverlikedme

    No, you’re not..you’re blessed. Fantasising is rich..dreams but, pure..they never come with our will, just drape their own dreams and make us Dream🙂 May you keep wording what figures no Alexithymic, may we all know our gifts..it’s called Living🙂

  3. mastyspot

    “Every morning
    is a sadistic thing;”

    your poetry is truly truly awesome! loved each word.. though your words are general representation of everyone’s nature but I usually feel pakistani dramas and in particular Hum TV Drama represent our Pakistanis feelings in an awesome way.

    Mornings don’t keep
    the night’s promise;
    they are the worst shoulders
    to cry on.

    amazing!

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