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Writer's pictureCAFTA Co. Writer

Unfiltered

Updated: Mar 16, 2021

By: Micaleb Lawrence

 

I pour myself into the next thing.

The thing that wakes me up every morning.

At times it changes.

I adapt, I lose the filter I created for,

that thing.

When the time goes my body will go into hybrid mode.

My mind will find a reason to not be mine.

The wave I ride will crash into someone else’s and everything…

will, stand, still.

I am overwhelmed with it at first but then I adapt.

I move on and the next thing becomes the new thing.

The new wave.

The new filter I carry in order to survive and make it out.

The never-ending cycle.

Ever changing world.

We evolve and progress,

we find light and shed it onto others.

Our filters we share with them so much that we no longer need it.

I watch as my light is dimmed to suit the darkness inside of them.

I embrace the filter put on me so they can see me better.

I should ask questions.

I don’t.

I do.

I get rejected and my crudeness offends them when I no longer need that filter.



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