Dec
5
don’t fear the sun
the sun knows no prejudice
see’s no colours
no shapes, hears no sounds
understands no words
doesn’t think
it hangs brightly in the air
slowly turning your skin
to brown, crisp paper
to be blown apart in the breeze
in a brown parade
your skin’s a confetti
raining on the pavements
coating the concrete with
your dried skins
shedding always
recreating façades
helplessly anonymous
that’s what I am
