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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() oh look, more people i see under my bald-eagle throne of warfare and welfare wearing their smiles backwards. eating their hands. the women, always the women and
the african-hispanic-native-asian-americans whom deserve ____ broadcasted on silver-spoon grass-fed screens. nightly, i am disgusted by the tight-lipped scarecrow called “reporter.” us me(n) and magpies. white necks and chest. we both sing coarse and wretched songs in the streets. we both puff out the greasy feathers on our chins and identify ourselves with he-him-his-nothingness. each person on this soil is free like stray cats in alleys. like dogs relentlessly worshiping and chasing bones and somehow, everyone thinks this is their country just because it breathes. who are you? i think. i tell them to get out. run far far away from here and don’t be a burden. we don’t want you-them-any-trouble because we like the structure: built by hands of people. a floor of people's hands. Comments are closed.
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Unless otherwise noted, all pictures used are open-source images in the public domain. Archives
September 2023
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