Knowledge rings through the bones as a war that always was, is almost here. Fear smells like nothing worth scrunching noses at, its scent brings me to the sunset hiding behind the canyon I dangle upon, a plunge into the abyss awaiting, I can almost taste home... Why don't you raise your voice and shout til your lungs have reached your ears. Why don't you raise your voice and shout til they say no instead of ignoring your eyes. All this talk of silence not protecting, I've never known swords to not protect when pointed properly: sheath with consciousness, nonsense isn't dying easily, nor are our fortunes jailers. A fool is every and plenty, don't think your own sword won't do you in. Killing yourself is laughably easy. Unless you're actually trying, of course... Forced to turn my head and still see. How many days? Time leaves without a peep but the tears won't stop covering their bodies. A homeless man asked me for change today, but what I have isn't what he needs yet. He drifts off, officers walking behind. I wondered where another tenant of this station laid; every time I'm at 125 st, I see him resting under weathered blankets by the trash can. So many wounded in action, unaware of their own service...
Justin Prince (they/she) is a writer and aspiring singer who was born and raised within the maddening streets of New York City. They’re currently pursuing a degree in English at Hunter College, and, when not fretting over coursework, usually spends their days either napping or singing love songs by their bedroom window.