A Symbolic Eclipse Poem by Moth Harris

To wake is a nuisance, knowing the sun has not.
My eyes can barely manage, and illusions are my sight
My body buckles beneath the sheets and I sleep.
Annoyed and unaccepted I must wake before night.

Made to walk the tiles of solid education.
A ghost, a grievance, an empty stare as blank as my mind.
For I have aquired no knowledge or the hope therefor.
Only getting though because she's intertwined.

I've managed, been bandaged, still in the game.
Life was not worth it to entertain until she came.
Present moment without illusions or false hopes failure.
Surviving I'm lost with my rifle and grenade.