It Cuts Both Ways

This city is my proverbial board roam.
I am tired of being pushed into corners and
Closets, like dust and cobwebs. Remnants of
What was, and what we wish could be forgotten.
I breathe in the sun, the smog, the browned,
Unloved pollen and cough out my anger.
There are no apologies here. Sunflowers turn
Towards the sun and I turn towards my rage.
It hurts me, and yet, it sings. The voice that boils
It’s way out of the esophagus. My throat clenched
Until it softens, until I soften, and let the
Sweet, sweet rage rush over me in calm
Determination. I’ve fought worse monsters
Than you, I whisper. I write Don’t fuck
With me boys
in clouds across the sky
So the world knows who I am.

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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