my year in a poem scholarship
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Before us, it was me.
A hollow house stood on top of riches wider than the eye could see;
Nothing would stop me from knocking on the door of the bourgeoisie.
The thought of experiencing poverty was frightening,
I would look back,
and cry at the memories,
of friends I left behind,
I was surrounded,
by people,
I am,
lonely, an outsider,
Today is different,
I look forward,
I'm tired.Tired of speaking self deprecatingly. Tired of telling other people that they are lovely.I want-No.
Twenty. It’s not a hard burden to bear.
But bent steel is never the same.
Be it from six years ago
or six days ago,
bent steel is never the same.
The fear from the robber’s machete…
The Election.
My biggest fear.
I never thought my life would come to this,
Sent into this spiraling abyss,
With family and friends,
Neighbors and lovers,
Torn apart by the threat of others.
