Reflection on being an outsider from the Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver
By Ali Scontrino
The room is dark, black, full of emptiness
Blinding like the sun
We crumble to dust and blow away
They knock in silence asking for help
Pounding like my heart in fire
Dark and hidden from the world
He is listening to no sound at all
Laughing death in the face, with the rest of the hiding souls
As the sun burns through your soul
I step away and blood flows
I turn to water and lay in a puddle
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