A Kiss of Death At 4 Am
Woke up from a
nightmare
at 4 am
clenched on to
my cold sheets
and stared at the
dead stars
in the ceiling
looked to my right
and gave my
sleeping sister
a peck on the
cheek
she woke up
scared for her life
I don't blame her.
being a poet is
-inevitably-
a curse as much
as it is
a blessing;
our emotions
always burst out
at
the
wrong
times.
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