San Francisco sun burns you to your core
When it makes its way from your golden skin
Into your see-through vessels and faint veins,
The breeze clears your face from all doubt follicles.

It pushes life back
into your soul,
into your dead
body,
It refills,

    Makes you forget wars fought back home,
    “You are not your family,” it whispers
    “Your past doesn’t define you,” it screams,
    “Your mother is happy,” it lies.

    For a moment you believe,
    believe the sun,

    You want to forget,
    forget to forgive,
    forgive
    yourself.

San Francisco sun rules over you,
Disconnects you from your soil,
“Soil can be disjoined and rearranged”
It lies,
            once again.

Eventually, it becomes impossible
to stand under the shade,

You are reborn,
start grieving.

They will rot,
but soil must reshape.

Take the sacrifice,
accept the fate,

or you will burn too.