Tell me, am I not the only one who is sick of these damn old men deciding what women are going to do with their bodies? They have had their run, they have been around for eighty years, they still can't figure out how to rearrange the apps on their phones, and they are in charge of everything?
The cymbals clashed. The audience erupted. The lights flipped on. And then, it was time for us. Time for the dozens of hours we had spent practicing to pay off in three minutes.
Is robot apocalypse plausible?
leaves let go
each one a page ripped out of summer's book
each one a memory that hasn't been remembered since 1969
each one a fragment of what was
why care? they say.
Comments
This. This is so true
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