Poem: Monologue 00.00.008

Looking into your eyes, I pray
Fly me to your paradise
Aura of borealis going abroad.

Burning pupils across Stanley Park
Fireworks beforehand sprinkling
high, running over adrenaline scream.

You’re not a Caucasian, then
Why fluent in English?
I was born with blood of White

What’s made of my dream?
Can never be any nightmare
because I’ve locked the Hell Gate.

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Yangsze Choo

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