bad news

I went to sleep with the flurry of bad news revolving in my mind, a lullaby. I woke up for fajr and it was still there. Bad news tried to wake me up at 9am, but I refused. I suppose eventual bad news is the same, or worse, than punctual bad news. But that never mattered to me. I'll push it away as far as I can, I'll sleep it off. It numbs my fingers like the persistent cold on winter nights, without gloves. The same way it numbs my heart from feeling any remorse for guilty words and phrases uttered in anger.

Bad news piles up. I begin to think life has little more to offer than this.