Saturday Morning

I’m always awake before the rest of the world.
I lie awake with this impossible weight on my chest,
staring at the ceiling as it falls down on my nerves,
I need to relax, I wish I could get some sleep.

I’m waiting for the rest of the world to emerge from rest,
while I sit here bored, I am isolated, stressed and alone.
Unable to drift away on my dreams, unable to float.
The morning sun taunts me as I mourn my losses.

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