My professor asked me to paint a picture, any picture.

23 Sep

“We sit closed,  but all in the open. Legs folded on curbs with everything we were told about being ladylike pushing us to open our legs wider, yell a  little louder. Rebels in our own right, rebels to memories we refused to be silent on. Swearing and breaking glass on street corners for the world to circulate.

Breaking molds doesn’t quite suffice even the inception of seeded anger. We’re on the microphone bluesin’. Center stage and in transition. Somehow the things that tear inside are one and the same with the tools that purify. One day you wake up and water cleanses again.”

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