The Death Of Me

Day light filters through closed curtains
Inefficiently lighting up that is certain
But all my monsters have died
No more do they  stay by my side
A tree impatiently scratches my window sill
A god among the world, but it still
Speaks to me, through my incarceration
I open my arms, without hesitation
I know the end is finally near
But death I certainly do not fear
Though it is not courage that I pertain
It is life I do disdain
I am But an object of the hour
Living in the past no more
It is foolish to hope, yet I still do
My days are numbered too few
But I am not broken, only askew