A Sunrise


With its shackles fixing night 
like some punk kid out past curfew – 
everybody knows this, 
but dawn exhales 
“I am stronger than paper, 
I am a grim machine 
in furious merge.” 
It’s countenance contorts day, 
that tragic laxative, 
and for fuck’s sake, 
I can’t silence my simpering legs! 
Solace breathes in love 
and forges a bastion of sun, 
my spiel, a giggling pinnacle 
tackling the shadows 
and their hierarchies. 

-r. miller


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