I work, but as hard and as diligently as a farmer,
Emotionally, I strain,
Mentally, I'm brood,
And Physically, I am torn and cut apart from the ruthless thistles of the world,
From dusk till dawn my shovel digs a deeper hole, and the sweat from my creased brow dries as I sleep,

I awake to the radiant sun bursting from the crack in my curtain,
Wearily, I rejoice in the peaceful and dulcet coffee filled morn,
Hope conflates with faith within me,
As I stare at the beauty out my window, efflorescence and colors of deep oranges and rose,
I feel the caffeine imbue throughout me,
And heavily, I lift, keeping with me these ephemeral happy feelings as I stretch my legs, and walk out my door,
Ready to face the day full of lassitude, and diligence.