Up Before Eight

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- May 3, 2020
- 1 min read

A Short Poem

There is a space inside my mind

Two Lines

An intersection of sorts

Leading to nothingness towns

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Writer

All I said was "I think I'm meant to be a writer.' And the tears just started falling. I cried like a mother whose heart is breaking because her son told her he's going to go off and be an artist. Cry

She said,

"I am not here to judge you, only to molest you Strip you of your dignity Crack open your chest and let your vitality spill on the floor I am the curtain and there is nothing but a man behind me I emp

Pacifist not Passive

Like a sitting duck We are prey We are not human Humanity is for those who pray My existence is contingent on enduring the pain of the unspoken rules My life matters less because they say so My rights

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Thanks for your interest in my rambling writing and other endeavors. For more information, feel free to get in touch and I will get right back to you.

kathrynmusing@gmail.com

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