In the Morning
Morning Reflections: Unveiling the Silent Symphony of Patience, Anger, and Love
Lyrics
Patience is a solitary game, blocking out an impulse and waiting for a change
Patience is a personal struggle, resisting impulses and awaiting change.
Anger is the Devil on his lips, hidden in his smile 'til he lets it rip
Anger is hidden beneath a pleasant facade until it is unleashed.
And in the morning, she'll check again, maybe he won't remember
In the morning, she checks again, hoping for a change in his memory.
In the morning she'll try again, somehow thinking it was all up to her
She tries again in the morning, believing she has the power to change things.
Memories are a drug to help her sleep, comforted by fantasies she knows can never be
Memories act as a drug, offering temporary solace through unattainable fantasies.
Silence is the calm before the storm, listening to his footsteps 'til they stop outside the door
Silence precedes a storm, with anticipation of his arrival at the door.
And in the morning she'll rise again, thinking it could get better
She rises in the morning, holding onto hope for improvement.
In the morning she'll ask again, somehow thinking, he might let her this time
She asks again in the morning, clinging to the belief that he might relent.
Hope is the reason why she stayed, told herself it would all be ok
Hope is the rationale for enduring, convincing herself that everything will be fine.
Fearing that this hope she had was wrong, an illusion that kept leading her along, leading her along
Fear creeps in, questioning the validity of the hope, leading her astray.
Power is what holds her on a string, he has power over her, controlling everything
Power becomes a controlling force in the relationship, holding her like a puppet.
Fear is the ruler of her mind, replacing any self-esteem she had to leave behind but
Fear dominates her thoughts, displacing any remaining self-worth.
Love is the king of everything, the feeling of her daughter's hand, the silent suffering
Love, despite suffering, holds a significant place, especially in her daughter's touch.
And in the morning she'll smile again, thinking this is what he wanted
In the morning, she smiles, believing it aligns with his desires.
In the morning she'll wait again, so convinced things could only improve
She waits again, convinced that things can only get better.
Did she have a choice or could it not be helped? Did she have a voice, could she help herself?
Questions arise about her agency and voice in the situation.
Instinct is so easily denied, an ugly truth she'd rather hide, rather hide
Instincts are ignored, concealing an unpleasant truth she'd rather not confront.
If only in the morning she'd walk away, knowing she deserved much better
If only she could walk away in the morning, recognizing her worth.
If in the morning she'd fight her way
If she could fight back in the morning, questioning the simplicity of such a choice.
But is it that simple? Would you have done the same?
Reflecting on whether it is truly that straightforward, pondering if others would act similarly.
Love is the reason why she's here, keeping her alive, the only remedy for fear
Love remains the driving force, keeping her alive despite the pervasive fear.
Laughter is a fleeting butterfly, precious as an antidote but fragile as a lie
Laughter is transient, akin to a fragile butterfly, a momentary remedy yet as delicate as a falsehood.
Comment