The sun shines through my window, opening into a new day.
I glance out and shrivel, wanting to crawl back to bed.
The streak of sun from a far was perfect.
But what goes inside it is not.
The world is an ugly place.
It's interesting though how that relates to everyone.
On the outside we can fake a laugh
and show a forced smile.
Inside we're hurting and almost feel as though we are burning.
Why is that I live to see that new day.
That streak of sun,
knowing all along that it's not what it appears.
Yet again, I rise out of my bed
and face the new imperfect day.
