Morning made me reach down.
A familiar rigidity, demanding and irritating.
No mood of defiance,
And futile efforts to pacify it.
To suppress, to restrain and to repress,
Or to get done with it,
Nothing works.
For it is bored
of me.
It demands guest hands and untried mouths.
In silent protests, it pulsates,
Irritating and embarrassing.
It is ever growing,
A slave rebellion for liberation.
It now rebukes in public places too.
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