Words spill onto the page like a million years
of history crumpled into five minutes of writing
the latest essay assigned by someone who could
never understand what it means to be filled to
overflowing with whispers, whimpers, willpower
needed for too many other things and yet, they
ask me to cut and cut and cut, never knowing
how often I have cut into the heart of myself
or how deeply, how thoroughly, I am writing
away a million years of history that erased me.
Final Draft of a First-Generation Student
Issue 2