Stolen land, stolen labor, unreturned favors Like flies they swarm, like maggots they feed, But we are all people, bold and brave – beautiful and
To burn I wrote this poem to burn — for the heavens to taste take my soul, a light — a match — and scatter
Hi, My Name is Reagan Hudson, and I love to eat I know I’m pretty small Six point two nine inches tall So while I
Dear forgotten friend My heart is a foreign creature to me sometimes It has a memory separate from mine Inside the bloody veins of the
My chest Feels carved My heartBeatingSo far off Stolen by someAttempted love All that remainsResemblesYour nails DivotsMy mindLoves toRevisit For theTextureOf yourGripWarmsMe Returns me For nowI
To Atlantis from Atlanta A couple letters away from here Lies a city When we are at our most beautiful, I imagine it — the waves crashing down
A circular planet with an off center core Lighter than the rest Visible, the energy burning Out one side stretches a tail of cell and
Vultures can smell frying flesh and Charred cells they descend from heaven on wings carrying death coasting over the waves of souls rising They hover
I was never one for perfection. The swoops of my penmanship never had to lay in synchronicity. They were made to give a point, and
Abira of Lonsdale was the princess-to-be If it came down to it, She would choose the crown, Having the crown meant happiness, Pleasure, Wealth, Delight,
