It is not the morning you would like.
It is dark and threatening and the light is angry.
There are no birds singing
and your chest is tight with dread.
It does not matter.
This is your morning, your battle
and you will not end it in darkness.
Your stubborn soul persists
and you stand. You walk and begin,
as the demons that danced the night away
suddenly cease, realizing that once again
their battle has been lost.
About this morning.
I personalize my depression. It is the one thing I give myself permission to hate. And on hard mornings, when my feet hit the floor and I begin my day, something in me says “take that!”
The picture was taken in Hartford, NY.