it isn't to make our melanin shine,
though we glitter in the wake.
There's a reason we revolve around you,
a reason we rotate,
it isn't to be picturesque in the galaxy,
though we look gorgeous in the make.
Drizzle, storm, and haze,
premeditated obscurity to remind us
of how stunning your smiley face is.
Under blinds, seventy two hours after,
we trade utility stories of you,
our necessary juice.
Though when you frown we frown
and you break our sweat till we
beseech for your hiatus,
no Pollyanna amongst
us in late August.
We're without gaily mode
waiting for that radia...
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