We exit the train
Methodically and in order
The working heels striking the ground
Drumming away a chorus of forced formality
Expressionless and void
In the company of many
Yet isolated and singular
Fading is our essence of community
Is this the great tempo of life?
Losing ourselves to sustain ourselves
Only united in one similarity
Our submission to this economical machinery
A chance to recreate
An introduction where I will defy your preconceptions
Or rather, your misconceptions
No longer will I comply with your blurbs for my life
Blurbs which did not capture me
Not in interest
Or in personality
I’m the one with the restart
I’m the one with the pen
It’s not a new me,
This is me.
This is my tale.
And this is my poetic license.
Photo: Writing process shot. It was a napkin scribbling kind of day.