![]() MorningA Poem by Bee![]() I'm bad at waking up.![]() 6am perfect. There it is every morning, immediate confrontation from air unlike my dreams, an electron thick gap begins to buzz between what is true and what I wish I could be. I lay there, sick of tricking myself into believing that I am concrete, I am made of much softer things that refuse to stay solid and still. This is why I shower late at night, to dull my frantic mind on thoughts that I will never feel real. it's powers work as the water runs over me, casing skin. I feel truly myself in the bathroom window's reflection, it is the only thing keeping me from joining the deep night sky within. I go to bed and try to think of nothing. Dreading the forever coming of morning, 6am perfect, and saddening.
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Added on November 24, 2017Last Updated on November 24, 2017 |