A white blank page // and a swelling rage- Mumford and Sons
the leather spine is broken once again. In poetic conversations. my anger resides anonymously. A powerless plasticity.
and as the cell phone rings and flashes. I cower silently. they talk with resentment against my opinions. In this hour of productivity.
my defensiveness is a sorry nature. You’re high tower? Step off. bitterness in anger. Foreshadowing enigma so sour—conveniently.
aptitude for attitudes in ways to empower. Insignificantly.