Every (wo)man for (her)self.
If you find help, you're lucky.
Not once has a hand
reached below to
help me climb
but one rung higher.
I don’t want the top
just a nicer view
a wider step
some room to grow
but they all think
I’ll steal their spot
so they kick me down
one further.
About the Creator
Grace Downey
An artist, graphic designer, creative human, and secret Margaret.
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Spectating
I can't imagine dying like this, in a place like this; on a cold, dirty pavement with rush hour traffic screaming by and a crowd looking on while paramedics struggle to find space to move. Who could? Deep down we all think there should be a reason, a moment of clarity... or a family presence, at least. For this man, this boy, the rail thin woman lighting a cigarette in a faux fur jacket will have to do - she's been here since the start, her eyes tracking the movement of my shoulders as we fight to keep him on the right side of the line.
By S. A. Crawford4 days ago in Fiction
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