A Day In My Life

Why I Write

I write for my stitched shut lips and my chain downed vocal chords that are not able to speak. I write because my diction is better than my dialect. I write because my author ego is better at telling my story than I am physically able to.   I started writing when I was in… Continue reading Why I Write

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My Poetry

Death of a Caterpillar

I crawl out of my cocoon, slamming the door behind me, promising to never return. I return sometimes. But now, never. The cocoon stands still, like it's frozen in time. Not moving forward or backward, but stuck where I left it. It is alone, abandoned, and screaming in agonizing pain. The four purple walls are… Continue reading Death of a Caterpillar