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.