Thursday, December 29, 2016

Eleven Eleven

Morning didn't seem as promising as it once did,
when we were little,
when we were unaware of divisiveness,

and I was starting to believe there were more casualties than cause from all this self awareness,
that we were getting nowhere with these empty epiphanies,

and I was disappointed in myself,
more than usual,

but morning was something I had taken for granted,
and I think in assuming its promise of more to come was naive,

it has to be earned,
and I wasn't certain I had done that,
at least not yet,

and maybe that made me more like the rest of them,
more than I cared to admit,

or maybe it meant that trends were foregone conclusions,
maybe,

maybe it was time for shut eye,
without question

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