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The rooster's crow warns me that dawn has comeMy sleepy eyes resist my need to riseI blindly reach for her but she is goneThen hear a sound that much to my surpriseReveals she hasn't left but still is near
Papers stuffed neatly into their respective folders, Textbook clenched tightly against my side, I turn to face the dawn. My mother stands against the light.
What is it that makes a person so goddamned miserable?
City buildings lean forward to listen, but they cannot hear the whispered nothings you tossed around the night before--mi mariposa, mi pajarito, but never simply beautiful. Taxis beep,