In the darkness of the morn, coffee brews, so divine,
Turning groans of early hours into a wakeful sign.
From sleepy haze, a cup transforms, its warmth does ignite,
Rituals of the damned, in each sip, find their light.
A dark brew whispers truths, reviving lost intent,
With each sip, the soul shakes off its dreary lament.
Morning’s spell is broken, as the caffeine takes its toll,
A jolt of hot ambition stirs the sluggish, waking soul.
Sleep’s shroud lifted with the steam of bitter roast,
Each cup a cruel taunt to those who hate mornings the most.
Vibrancy unfurls where once was fog and dread,
Coffee’s dark allure drives the thoughts from out the head.
In this potion’s embrace, life’s colors find their hue,
The drowsy fog dissolves, revealing a clearer view.
The daily crucible demands its bitter blend,
A stark reminder that night’s calm will soon transcend.
With each sip, the rituals that once were soft and slow,
Become a fierce awakening to the fiery glow.
Thus, embrace the sacred brew, where dreams and strength entwine,
For morning’s darkest hour becomes a moment so divine.