when, under duress
the sun forgets to wake
and just lets the clouds have their say, white
is the same as grey.

i for one, alone, for too
think littlely and slow, with an anger
that bates my silver breath

i am not gilded, to be seen
but small. i must remember
i am not precious. i hate
and my lungs fill with sour water.

but when the sun
under duress, forgets to wake,
the clouds will say other things too.