they sell fruit at my school cafeteria.
underneath the blank cold light
the blueberries
taste like eraser shavings
the red ink across my test are tomatoes
bursting with acids.
i try it, place a bit on my
tongue and swallow.
something inside feels raw.
i eat numbers and letters
for lunch.
YOU ARE READING
the soft
Poetrythey say to be soft is to be powerful but it gets harder to believe that every passing day
