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Writers Hate Clichés
The day was crushed by shimmering dark
That coats the night in silver sparks
When a shooting star afraid of heights
Sank below the edge of the sky
Waiting for the dawn to thaw my skin
Blinded through my telescope lense
But here the time is always midnight
So we've no use for things like sight
The moon is out, but it isn’t much
Free the sun from the horizon’s clutch
Such a heavy star can never rise
No matter how hard she tries
She's held captive by the west
From the opposite end, my only request
Helios please, for one night at least
Make the sun set in the east
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