6:30 AM Weekdays

I’d rather spend 7 bright-eyed mornings Chasing empty skies than risk Waking up hollow 7 years from now To realize the world was shifting Without my notice, Under my starry-eyed gaze, Blurred from looking into the sun, At the loud and brilliant, Distracting from The subtle supple blank spaces

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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