I wake up again, sweating, panting, and feeling broken.
I reach into my bag and pull out a symbol, a token.
I reflect on the past, my heart breaking in my chest.
My eyes well with tears, longing for only rest.
A broken man, With broken dreams.
Remembering, coming apart at the seams.
So many other nights my dreams escape me.
But this dream, a memory that defines me.
Swept up again in a torrent of emotion.
I allow myself to be carried away by the motion.
All that is inside me spilling onto the floor.
Lost in my misery, this side of me I abhor.
I place the symbol away back into my bag.
And stare at the ceiling as my shoulders begin to sag.
Now is not the time for sadness.
Lest in my grief I succumb to madness.