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Late Early in the winter morning of Saturday during 1989, in Kursk, Russia, I was sitting at the table with my mother. We only have each other now after Dad passed away eight years ago from a mugging the night when he was walking home from working late. I know that she thinks about him when we're silently eating meals with the occasional, "Could you pass the milk?" to break the solemn quietness. I was surprised that breakfast when she suddenly said, "Nika, I need you to meet me today in front of the train station at 2:35 today, and remember to be on time for once, I know how you are at forgetting things. I get off work early today so I'll be able to have some free time on my hands before you have to get there." I replied with a nod and an affirmative grunt since I was munching on a piece of buttered, slightly burnt toast. I didn't know why we were going to the train station, but I didn't ask any questions. Mom headed out the door after eating and off to work at the local tobacco outle
ResistSecond time I've told you no
You still insist you know
That it would be great if
I just went with it
In the past, I agreed to do
About anything a friend told me
If only I could have a redo
I would finally be free
So many wrongdoings have happened
Because I've been persuaded
When they urge me to give in
I comply and it feels like I've been sedated
You press and continue to test
My ability to resist
But what good can come from this?
You people feel like a cyst
I won't be tempted again
And if it should so happen
That you ask once more
Then it will be the third time you've been ignored
Stop the TalkingScreaming from the inside
Just trying to climb out from the genocide
That sits at the bottom of the cesspool
That place where the tyrants rule
It hasn't been used
Only my mind that's been abused,
Tortured and fooled
It shouts from the pain and the anger
If it's let loose
It will soon verbally consume
All that have become corrupted
By the unending talking
All they do is talk
For once, please notice what I want
Your mouth to stop it's endless taunts
Nine TimesI saw him nine times.
The first time we were both sitting in the room together, getting ready to take the math test that would determine our placement. I was scatterbrained and throwing things around, trying to find the pencils that I had known I would need but had still just tossed in my purse. He was lounging backwards in his chair, looking for all the world as though he didn’t have a single care in the world, including the upcoming test. It annoyed me, that I was frantic and ready to scream, while someone else could be that relaxed.
I tested out of the class.
I don’t know if he did.
The second time I saw him, it was a few months after I arrived on campus. He was the one rushing and frantic this time, running across the square. He was probably late for class, though I had no way of knowing for sure. I was already lost in my own thoughts and ideas, deciding on my major and convincing people that yes, this is what I really want to do with my life. If they weren
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