CREATIVE WRITING

When the Wings of a Building Clip our Own

KARA FUSARO Curiosities Editor

We write about thoughts or feelings Confined to the idea of “learning” Only to spit out the facts we are fed, Like a bird to its offspring. We swallow what the canary sings, As absolute truth. No question or doubt, Only a teapot with a chipped spout. Even so, I write down my thoughts Uninspired and reclusive Alongside many empty chairs In a narrow, endless hallway With scarce rations for full ideas… I can’t seem to finish.

But an idea is not for the student; Yet students must be taught. No sense of belonging, Or even a sizable piece of joy. The facts are shoved down And accepted, at best. A spoonful of cynicism, And punch to the chest.