Mugged delights

Hard day hard work hard night

lie down lie flat lie still

not like theres something better to do


lies you tell yourself to get down

lies you tell yourself to get up

lies you've told yourself over and over again


I know something, though

brought on the backs of my ancestors,

wrought from the hands of many


who've worked harder,

who've known hardship,

who've grasped harder


they all allow for my moment of


they know, I think,


just when I want to feel

nothing, a little stronger

I choose instead of rest


that which elevates me 

beats my heart for me

wrings my words from me


mug steaming, fog bearing,

bitter tasting, heat teasing, 

smell lingering, pulse quickening,


caffeinated, hand-roasted, bean-sprouted

moment of silence

while I take a breath,


and that first sip of coffee.

This poem is about: 
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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