Here we sit in perectly aligned rows
Black metal chairs hold the weight of our worries, our fears and our dreams.
We sit, uniformly individual.

We are all cogs in the large machine that turns us all into the same set of numbers and alphanumerics.

As I sit among these people, I realize that we are all equally unprepared for life. The school systems put us in a sinking boat and hand us a thimble to scoop out the water.

But no, it's not them. Its us. Society turns its light house neck around the rocky cliff and faces not the shore, but the solid land.
Somehow we're the ones that fail, even when everyone else gave us the pieces to a different puzzle

To Tell the Truth

Everyone has that moment when they're staring at a mistake and time just seems to wrap around them, swallow them in a weightlessness that is tantamount to death.
Mine came in the form of blood soaked bathroom rug and a hastily written note.
The tile floor become a womb,a cold memory to carry me from this life.
The next morning I woke up twice.
The first I ate breakfast, the second, I ate my pride.
I needed help.
I need help.
In place of a androgynous mass with a PhD and a ******* for money, I write lines.
Letter after letter I take this new cuneiform and pull the lines from the pages and stitch the holes in my heart shut.
Poem after poem I draw closer the redemption.
Everyone has that thing, that makes time start living again.