Mourning Routine

I wake up only to sing the same routines

Double shot of espresso for the terrible dreams.

Fill my cup with honey to mask the bitterness,

Take a few pills to appease the sickness,

Try to choke some breakfast down,

As my self esteem continues to drown.

The lump in my throat won’t let much pass,

So I settle for some yogurt and an ice cold glass,

Of painful thoughts that circulate around my head,

They hover like a ghost that wants to see me dead

But I’m not willing to let go of this place,

I only want to learn how to forget a face.

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