The cycle begins

To much chagrin.

Again I sigh

And wish I could die.

 

Too bad there is more

Of life in store. 

For me to sacrifice

Just wouldn't suffice.

 

My life is more than my own

While I am isolated I am not alone.

My drive to kill

Is shaken by the light from my windowsill.

 

Morning comes and I start to awake

My dreams of health are revealed as fake.

I roll out of bed

With pounding in my head.

 

And my daily cycle begins

To much chagrin.

To the dawning day I sigh

And wish I could die.

 

With heavy heart and soul I breathe

I am a knight with no sword in my sheathe.