Oh How I Hate The Morning

Darkness plays semicolon
as night portends the moon.
Lightness treads the ellipsis point
while the day brightly holds the sun.
Afar the crow greets the breaking dawn,
carrying sleep in it's full majesty.
Pressing upon the dreamscapes eye,
the faint cawing of a seemingly distant reality.
It pierces the deft eye of the pointillist
and splinters into a blinding kaleidoscope.
Filtering out an uncorrupted imaginations
tireless visions of spectral bliss.
Laying rest to my souls inner struggle
as the morning light awakens me from the
fantastical dreamings of my solemn slumber.
Oh, how I hate the morning!