My body is torn between coming alive
and pretending to be dead;
clearly the former is the superior option, but it's just
so much more work.
Alarm goes off like the barking of dogs
and I reach out,
snooze it again, again, again.
Eventually my mom yells at me to get up already,
and the day begins.
YOU ARE READING
September Poems (2023)
PoesíaA compilation of my best poems written during the month of September
