44 Poetry Class
Reserve our Private Writing Room
I'm Oyzis*.I see you've comewith my doppelganger
Blue and blue and blue and green. The day she finished chemotherapy, she called me.
You and I, we go way back
when does a war truly become one's own?
My lungs were tucked into a boxWrapped in a pink bow
“Speak to your medical provider.”But they don’t wear the skin I’m in.
I am standing on a grave that my ancestors dug,
What am I? I don’t have the luxury of being mediocre. My tresses are curled and kinked.
The heart of the Valley beats in PanoramaCycling between third world and developed nation
Does my mic sound nice?Do my words sound nice?Does my hype sound nice?
. . . and when I look up high to the skies I see the beautiful geese flying . . .
You talk like you have monopoly on language like your tongue knows betterhow to twist alphabets and rest them in lines