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Writer's pictureCecily

My Music Box.


One odd morning,

Maybe once each month.


My eyes will open,

But my mind wont wake up.


Crouched,

Crushed in darkness.

I get up.

Fully knowing my head,

Still resides in my bed.


I go about this hazy day,

Doing all I would usually do.

Just aware not true smile,

Will grace my face today.


Waiting,

For an outside force,

To lift the lid,

Of this box I am hid.


For my spring to engage,

The robot within.

That can perfectly act,

As I spin.


Around and around,

Performing my dance.

Repeating the same song,

Over and over.


I wish this day would be over, over.


No matter how hard I try,

How many days I've danced this dance.

I can't release this spring.

Im stuck in this trance,

Trance.


My body is present,

But my soul elsewhere.

I just keep turning,

The same tune ringing in my ear.


Others will not ask,

Or notice it seems.

That im glued in one spot,

Tied to this spring.


Dizzy,

Weak.

This days almost complete.


I yearn for my bed.

Its all I desire in this moment.

The only thing,

To bring my mind atonement.


The euphoria,

I feel,

Once my body is finally still.

My mind at rest.


Im so proud of myself,

A grand conquest.


To complete this hazy day,

A day I know for sure.

Will return,

Once more.


But for now,

Im at peace.

Ticked off another defeat.


Tomorrow when I wake,

Thats a feeling i'll truly appreciate.



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