This cold winters' morn the beams of Amber light shine on the ceiling, I lie awake seeing the dull tones of a familiar room, with dread in mind.
A disheveled soul dreading this daily grind of meat and bone lazily I glance to the left all weary eyed, the digital reads on the alarm bleating these digital tones
the time 5.38.
This reluctant soul awoke from the crypt of familiarity, after scowling my...