I put the itch on hold.
Now had come a time.
I couldn’t quite find a rhyme
for agony. Still, I blustered
and blundered my way through.
Something driving
drove the color from my off-set eyes,
and I grew into a litany, came clean.
That was the easy way.
Generational hangups and the like,
they chewed through my wires,
but I never let them get a look at me
at my most vulnerable. Certain things,
you just don’t cope with.
-r. miller
*Insert Propaganda Here* 