15, 30, 15

I ate in silence
prayed quietly, half content
half frustrated from the fragrance and fumes.

Rants about privilege that most had yet to discover the meaning of.
I would constantly tell myself that this served to make me content.

To seek freedom in the form of late nights filled with sentences too long to remember. But words left tiny holes, big enough to let light in

And this light shines through break rooms on warm lunches and 15 minute writing sessions.


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