I was young, but now I’m old. I’m a hundred stories told Of great men who ran the world Ragged, forsaken, and cold. The great men slayed sea-titans, And sloughed off their icy skins, Then poured grease into their seas, And killed their last-of-kin. Said they fought the world and won Treasures they’d pass onto their sons. But when they died, we were young And we found no world to run. It was never for their sons. By the knolls, we know it's true. Passed to each and ev'ry one, One inheritance: "undo." I was young– they made me old, I’m a hundred stories told, Of dead men whose only goal Was more gold, more gold, more gold!
Well, it’s simple. We were writing poem starters in the Earth Day Poem workshop, I came up with one phrase and I couldn’t leave it at that!
Marla Bingcang, class of 2023, chained and locked to the Chicagoland Area, is proud to say that she can read.…
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