Poem: I Am… (I)

I.
I am not concerned with the grey-colored lenses of passerbies,

I am burning,

ink,

inkwells,

the sound of a keyboard klick-klacking

 

I am the snow my skates shave off as I turn

I was stone but now I am water

I have stared my self-shame and known it was me but

I have pressed on.

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