Poetry: The Black Boy’s Effect & If It Is A Woman By Azaiouris Y. Zeon
you grew your bones to thorns,
& fought the war on your tongue,
& say prayers for little things that
ate many things inside of you.
you grew your bones to thorns,
& fought the war on your tongue,
& say prayers for little things that
ate many things inside of you.
THE BOY IS NOT A CONCUSSION OF POVERTY! Before you regurgitate, trying to form a resolution to the cub, kissing the fire with
DEPRESSION My body is mixed with ashes of darkness my thoughts, confined like a motionless moon I watched the mirror of my mind;