Crammond

It’s the middle of June
But here comes the snow.

Humans

Wash away the sins of last night

I am a blank slate
With no chalk

Underpaid, overworked –
Demand a raise, watch them smirk;

I’d open your heart with such surgical skill

We are gods of the world we accept

You shrink from the darkness
Like a coward.

No Moses am I

I sit perched on the edge of a mountain;
On the ruins of safety once clung to for life.

Rip at my cords and claim my fame
As they tug at my will to resist.