Morning Words

The breath of the morning
stings me as if burning;
its words are lies
and its light dies,
but its body seems immortal
and its soul is too brutal,
oh how it hurts
as its shine bursts,
and what can become of its light,
as it intrudes its last fight
into my house of dreams,
and discovers there are no means,
but only lost hope...
and still my eyes cope.