I see through your game of pretense; the game of tag that has no end.
I see through you time, even when you slam minutes into the crown of my head—a hammer to a nail: pound, pound, pound
I see through you fear, even when you drag me to the edge of the cliff and taunt me from below, firing image after image of endings and uncertainties.
I see through you all
For I am above—
A sturdy mountain of truth and nothing is moving this mountain
Not today!
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
I am after that high, the one that resides at the opening of two souls who slices through the skin beyond the flesh to the
Illustration by Deema Alawa Heist of Self by Parivash Goff What ingratitudethis nebulous futurefor methat I rejectfrom you. I tally all the waysI fight your