In the dim, ungodly hour's glare,
I stumble forth with unkempt hair,
Another day, another bout,
Against the world's incessant clout.
The sun, it laughs, a cruel jest,
As morning chores await their due,
My bones, they groan, my spirit pressed,
By tasks that never seem quite through.
Oh, coffee, my reluctant friend,
You promise vigor, but then pretend,
To lift me from this drowsy haze,
Only to prolong the morning maze.
Yet amidst this daily grind and grind,
A spark of hope, a whispered dream,
That one day soon, relief I'll find,
From mornings' drudgery extreme.
Despite the drudgery of mornings, I know, each day offers a chance to find joy in small victories and moments of unexpected brightness.
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