i sit at the window
in my rosy chair
wrapped inside my blankets
missing cosy sleep

i stare into darkness
and try to lift the night
with an act of my sheer will
I try to light the sun

but the dark is heavy
it resists my grasp
claims that it has kismet
over my soft heart

everyday the sun comes up
and the dark recedes
but my captive heart’s still torn
and the wound still bleeds

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