I feel my eyes gone overweight spontaneously, at a beautiful hour aptly named, Dawn. Dawn has been crowned beauty queen since time immemorial, I have been convicted of turning my back on her, and looking in her eye with brazen arrogance on most days, when she breaks and awakes. I'm her least of favourites because I refuse to worship her beauty, and trade instead for eye bags and lethargy. She has punished me with an unwavering hold, lending her majestic gaze upon me, so I can never sleep in peace.
Her favourites are always there to greet and bow at her misty feet; fresh-faced, and just a little sleepy but awake. To be ignored or defied is unacceptable. Someone subversive like me is deemed fit for her abhorrence. Dawn is fond of contriving her presence on the periphery of the horizon lazily, and gloriously; spreading her endless bosom for everyone to succumb to but I will not yield. I have no reason to except by my permission.
Dawn is cruel in the tradition of beauty queens. She upholds that useless piece of trait and tradition like her personal vendetta account squarely aimed at me.
Dawn, is slowly fading into oblivion like, Daphne, the river nymph who fled from the Sun god, Apollo's ardent pursuit. Dawn is Queen to lovers before they part after the kiss. Dawn is also fleeting because she lives on a diet consisting of nothing, that's why she's weightless and hard to capture except by mirrors. But the moment she looks away from her mirrored image, she's lost until the next daybreak.
I loathe Dawn for her unfaithfulness and disregard for her mourners when she's gone too soon and returns like it never happened.
Her favourites are always there to greet and bow at her misty feet; fresh-faced, and just a little sleepy but awake. To be ignored or defied is unacceptable. Someone subversive like me is deemed fit for her abhorrence. Dawn is fond of contriving her presence on the periphery of the horizon lazily, and gloriously; spreading her endless bosom for everyone to succumb to but I will not yield. I have no reason to except by my permission.
Dawn is cruel in the tradition of beauty queens. She upholds that useless piece of trait and tradition like her personal vendetta account squarely aimed at me.
Dawn, is slowly fading into oblivion like, Daphne, the river nymph who fled from the Sun god, Apollo's ardent pursuit. Dawn is Queen to lovers before they part after the kiss. Dawn is also fleeting because she lives on a diet consisting of nothing, that's why she's weightless and hard to capture except by mirrors. But the moment she looks away from her mirrored image, she's lost until the next daybreak.
I loathe Dawn for her unfaithfulness and disregard for her mourners when she's gone too soon and returns like it never happened.
No comments:
Post a Comment