Creeping

Each day that wanes is creeping.
Inside, my hope is gone.

My one respite is sleeping,
Yet still, I dread the dawn.

My mind is growing weary
from these pills that I am on,
The nights are cold and eerie,
and still I dread the dawn

Each day goes by so quickly,
My memory has gone,
And I've grown old and sickly,
but still I dread the dawn.

The days are filled with sorrow,
and still, I carry on,
And will again tomorrow,
For still, I dread the dawn.