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The Day is Done
The day is done
The sun is sinking into the bathtub
Flinging toys flinging joys across the sky.
The day is done
The umbrellas put away and the chickens and
cuckoos are revving up and
I can’t stand locked doors.
I’m gonna outdoors and sing a sad
sweet sad sweet sad sweet song to the fingernail moon.
The day is done
The stars unleashed.
The day is done. The ambulances rush past, tearing the
night apart with fear and danger and warning. The
TV still blares and trash play on the radio.
It’s like a hand grenade at my fingertips. One last cookie
and then I’ll stand on the roof and have a psychotic
fit. My class photos are disturbing. My clothes are
laid out for tomorrow. Baby dolls, I can’t sleep.
Time to pack a suitcase? Who just walked indoors?
Why am I so afraid?
The moon and stars can’t hurt me. The day is done
and the day is done and will never again come back to me.
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I spent the summer of 2020 by myself in the library, writing in notebooks whatever came into my mind, and this is a sample of the poetry I invented.