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Allison

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

6 poems·Since October 2012

If I'd gone outside I would have sweat until I melted into a puddle, so I chose to sit in the kitchen until the air conditioning dried my skin into cracking crevices that exposed my bloody interior. Such was the afternoon I subscribed to Power Poetry. Poetry is a sort of maddness.