The birds of purpose fly above my greasy head cawing with goals and prophecies. I raise my gun to one because guns are even easier to find than birds. I shoot one down because I was taught to. It’s bird body flails in my palm and it looks me in the eye and says “you can have my body but my soul belongs with the sky.” He goes still and I want to cry but all my classmates are surrounding me and clapping and saying “you’ve caught your future, now you’ll be alright!” and I know I am getting an A. No one knows the bird refused to give me his purpose and I haven’t said a word. When I awake from a dream of a dream, I am still a purposeless girl and now I am also a killer.
5/7/20 (23, Buffalo, NY)