The sun hits my eye
I've been in my mind too long.
It's the same sun that hit Alexander's eye
All those years ago.
The same sun that burnt the backs
Of those who built the pyramids
Is right outside my window.
Warming my face if I let it.
I just remembered the sun.
It's always there
If you choose to see it.
Its been cloudy inside
For too long.
YOU ARE READING
Ghost Poetry
PoesíaA book of poems and short stories. A conscious crisis about heartbreak, madness, carnal sin, and the promise of liberation.
