As Dawn Hits

Photo by Ethan Cardaño/THE FLAME

Heal thy troubles and woes 

Knock on their wooden hearts

Wipe tears with their cotton hems

Plead to their beady eyes

Heal sorrows with strands of hair


For when dawn hits

No place is safe again


When everything is refused

Cease to question yourselves

When you refuse to question

The crimson that touches veils

Or the chipping of wooden emblems

As you endlessly adorn spaces

With figures of unearthly beings


Under your makeshift altar

You dwell a little longer

Catastrophic desperations luring you back

Your fervent desires bring them to life


You clasp your hands together

Teeth gritting in anger

And with a single glance at your faces

Eyes, bloodshot, dilated, fixated

Your pleading ignites candles long dead


When it runs away from us

Pray it disappears into the night

For in it is a prey looking to leave

Secluded between our tender hands

Pounding, twitching, salivating

Desperate for its release into the wild

So its razor-sharp fingertips

Could pierce through fragile surfaces


Now, our final judgment looms somewhere

Once more, smothered by golden fabrics 

Dried jasmines rotting with our filth

Peeking through gaps in our doors

Barging into lapses of our bodies

Preying on the weaknesses of our minds

And as dawn hits once more

This place has become no more. F

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