Adalia Kruk

Walking home alone.

She spots a man nearby.

He whistles, shouts a lewd comment.

She tries to ignore him at first.

He yells again.

She calls back, laughing nervously, "Maybe another time!"

He doesn't listen.

A couple was shot in the city which I call home. Portland, Oregon. I learned the news right after I had gotten home from school. Had this really happened? Could it be true?

Gentle as water sliding down your face,

A voice like a bell.

A smile as delicate as a rose,

But as strong as an eagle.

Hands and arms with ink scribbled over them like tattoos.

Hair like a sunset.

Every time I open my eyes I see a different world staring back at me. 

Sometimes it’s beautiful. 

Sometimes I hate it. 

Lately, I've seen more hate than love. 

When did our country become a monarchy?

When did it become an autocracy?

We vote, yes

But this new ruler

This new president

This new king

He’s broken law after law

Stripped away peoples rights