a collection of poems
How can I go days, months – James White
Of painful static vibrating through my arms and chest A numbness that wishes an experience of sadness would save me The rotting of bridges built, a self unknowned A feeling that cultivates in cavities where previous sparks of rambunctious life
Sometimes growing up means leaving people behind – Rose Anne Bechayda
a letter about leaving people and places behind to pursue your dreams as a first-generation student
