A poem for 2020.
What pandemic isolation is making me wonder about myself and how I want to change.
Hello my pen, My long lost friend. I put you in your cup months ago, or was it years? You’re all I have now. These hands have toiled. This heart was broken. These eyes have cried. But still, my pen has ink. The hand that toiled Now wants that toil on the page, The heartContinue reading “Hello My Pen, A Poem About Writers Block”
Official Post from The Professional Protester : Your house is my home, Mr. and Mrs. Landlord.You have the deed,but I have the memories.It might be your property, but it is my life.The living room that you want to sell,That is where I saw our children play,Where I did puzzles with grandma,Where my siblings and I playedContinue reading “Your House, My Home (A poem about eviction) | The Professional Protester on Patreon”