March 10, 2020
try
The weight of the world rests on our shoulders. Yet the fate of the world lies beneath the heels of the rich, their carbon footprints stamped down like corporate logos.
All in Goes Around
March 10, 2020
I don’t have space in me to hold all the pain of the world
The sands that I would pretend were sprinkles, where I’d roll around in, feeling like a brigadeiro. The sea where I learned that the best way past a tall wave is through it. It was now buried in oil and the federal government refused to do anything about it.
