Elisabeth Balmon
Bio
sometimes I write almond themed poetry
Stories (33)
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The Glass (version 2)
If walls could talk, they would choose not to. Their purpose is obedient division, and the only way to succeed is blindly. There is safety for them in their unshakable apathy. You are meant to believe they exist to elevate, to hold up the world for you, but they only stand to separate and corner your most vulnerable. Every wall ignores those who use them to hide and spy, to make sure you can not see past what someone else deems enough. If they didn’t, they would crumble under the guilt of supporting not the great wide world, but a devious system. That system wants you to believe the walls do not feel, so I ask you to accept that neither do I.
By Elisabeth Balmon3 years ago in Fiction
The Glass
I touch both worlds, and they touch me. Oh, the things I could see if I only could see. If I could feel or think. Schools circle and cycle through the space, a steady flow of traffic around me. To the left, the school is wide-eyed students, and to the right, bug-eyed fishes.
By Elisabeth Balmon3 years ago in Fiction
