The Sun Is Here

Cold morning light, washed out colors against a silver sky.
A cold bottle of beer open in my hand, head spinning.
The morning has come, another day has come,  I’m alright.
Nights seem endless and the wires of fire tear my thoughts.
Where is there to go when the demon comes, lives inside?
Where is there to go, when she’s gone, never to come back to me?
Yet the sun is here and I am here, and a cold morning is precious.
A swig of beer and, for a moment, my mind is calm in the wind.
Another day and I am here, and I will go on.
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