the morning air

i ride a bike to work

the morning air makes my soul ache
i can feel it right down to my core
the way the light is just creeping over everything
reminding me that its going to be another hard day
just barely scraping by
its only always been about survival
my body shakes in the cold air
every nerve hates the way this feels
everything drowned in a blue hue
your own breathe hangs in mist in front of you
this is one of the purest forms of true sadness
and you have to stomach it and move on
i'll probably do this for the rest of my life
cause the world wasnt built to suit my kind
were just bums and we refuse to better ourselves
maybe we just cringe at the idea of being like you

there isnt a jacket or any amount of layers i could put on
that would take this chill away
its internal and eternal
the reminder, always there, that something just isnt right

Reviews

[Cobblestone Traveler]

Beautiful expression of trudging on through the thick, frigid melancholy. I liked how you incorporated the cold throughout the whole poem, giving it an experience of constant chills. Great job with this piece, I enjoyed reading.