Page after page, 17 pages of this magazine tells a story that no one reads Sweaty hands pressed tightly against black metal cold, grip trigger; just do it - muzzle over my mouth muzzles the sound of my cries - staring down the barrel meeting eyes with the pounding of the hammer sliding back- I’m not safe. Methodically and strategically, I only get one shot. Literally. So I release so I can fly, I jus wanna laugh before I die.... bye bye butterfly, no need to cry.
-Niedria Kenny
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