Question

Daylight brings distraction, shortly.

Work to be done

Food to be eaten

Midday requires too much strength to carry on

I lay down. Will the pain ever stop breaking my bones?

I get up, carry on. With what?

I don’t know.

People. Paper. Pollution of thought. A disease.

No more food, please.

Night brings hell, again.

Again and again and again.

But

I conquer

The days

And try to oust the menacing darkness

From its power.