By Norhan Qasem

Folding into different shapes from paper—

Then thrown away.

Learning to write in lead,

Erasing my mistakes with my end—

Only to have my head placed inside 

a metallic machine,

—Skinning me, pointing me, shortening me—

Disposing me.

Roaming the earth,

Spreading wings, soaring up in the sky—

Eaten, 

crushed,

hurt

By mother nature.

I appreciate this plastic casing, 

The indelible ink that stains—

And what I turned out to be.

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Author Bio:

My name is Norhan Qasem and I’m a transfer student from Normandale. I’m a junior at Augsburg, and I’m a double major in social psychology and creative writing.