Everyday
I wake up.
Everyday,
I open my eyes,
I regret the seeing the sights that never greet me.
Never a welcoming sound to call me up from my bed.
The blanket feels heavy.
Again.
A body that I thought was mine is not responding.
I look out the window and I see the sun
but I hear the storm.
Everyday,
I get up and I ask myself why.
Why must I still be here?
And I whisper,
“Not for those who love me,
But for those I love.”
