How Dear I Poem by Dorothea Gift Of God

I awake every morning
Breathing and excited to be angry again to never say thank you
I never even put my mind to the thought or even try to find a way to express to God thank u for another day.
So I breathe another moment as if it could be my last
But then again I'm low on oxygen and I have no one to run to but Gods sun.
Even the moon laughs at me a wicked creation fighting my way against God, the God I cry to for help.
I fall asleep and run back and whisper in hells ear a broken lost prayer.