But I fear the implications.

I wake,
to the taste of lemon sunrise,
bright and bitter.
Sharp knives,
the nails of reality
intruding through the window,
to invade on a sanctuary, a home
in my mind.
         A protective cover, my dreams, the night.

Every tingle,
the cold and the warm play as bed,
abandons me.
I am meant to rise
bipedal and stand
indestructible.
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