How naïve you are little girl. Morning comes with painful sunrays that slip through the cracks in my blinds to find their way to my eyes. Crusted shut and bloodshot , always open to suggestion of better ways to start the day. A morning mess of death and decay with fermented breath she’d hate to taste. A Sunday body wrapped in soggy sheets, a muggy room with some thickness of a bad hangover. These early hours are the only things which seem to speak the truth these days. These early hours catch me so bare. What's to hide before any battle with a showerhead and shaving gel? This hairs a mess and I'm sorry to say, I'm just such a wreck most days. I'm ugliest in the morning my dear. ps everyone go to aliascheern4u2's diary and leave her some lovin. also if you like good original writing.. check out imjustagirl