It’s the look
that stops you
where you stand,
shakes you up a bit,
and leaves you
questioning.
It’s the questioning
that shatters you
to aching bits
and scatters you
in the wind.
It’s the wind
that carries you
to a myriad
disparate places,
different climates
and time zones,
each piece of you
more alone
now than ever
you were when
you were whole.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 