this is us. the kids with the pixel hearts, the queens with the broken hearts. this is us, bleeding love and glory. we survived. this is us with the gazillion views on oppression and prognostications. this is us – the ones with the bruised knees and patched minds, building sandcastles with the muck you threw at us. this is us with the scraped knees – do you remember pushing us down?
this is us – grime filled nails and latte lips and rusty hair. this is us, and we made it this far. this is us, and we wear headbands of wilted flowers. we scream with our face full of blood. we know how to make poison with apple seeds. we hope with bandaged skin and tousled hair. we sing with our mouths closed – do you remember taping our mouth?
so this is us – reincarnations of helen and cleopatra and venus. this is us with labels stuck to us with permanent glue. this is us – dying to please a generation you raised.
YOU ARE READING
Prismatic Memories
Poetry"i. they tell me they cannot comprehend art. where art is, whispers reside. ii. i tell them that the only art i need are the words that bleed onto paper. iii. they tell me it doesn't work that way. there are compromises for art. sports. scie...
