By Audrey Wu
What if we were born pushers
Off the backs of this mother
Whose fingers have rusted green
Like those of Lady Liberty
Maybe we were meant to become oxymorons
Killing what gives us breath
And breathing what brings us death
We are not falling off the edge of a cliff
But dangling our feet like the rim of a swimming pool
Or walls where wine sloshes like watered down banter
Against the tilting glass
Glass now freckled stars beneath our feet
Glass that was never rose colored to start with
Are we the force that pulls the dawn in
From her rosy comfort
Do we dare ask her to join the march
Leaving shadows behind us
Hoping they’ll become imprints
Because we are not the exception
We are the young
And the scared
And the hurting
And we are asking you to help
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