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December 13, 2023
Thrown by sweat soaked fingers
I am the god of dramatics
Where women in their robes
Find me amusing,
Picking and selecting
What they want from me.
But I fall through the burning air
Only burning because of me
Because I show them what I cannot see
Hitting the pavement,
In the place that desires and hates me
They can whisper whatever they feel
And I have to pass it on
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This piece is a perspective poem written from the view of a newspaper. It is a commentary on the current corruptness of the news and the press and how hard it can be to intake that devastating information. It is unfair to make hasty assumptions about hot topics based on biased sources, and unfortunately, many Americans have the mentality that everything in the news is objectively factual.