Making

Written by Jacob Ibrag

They take you in for who you are and

that eats  you up inside. ‘How can they condone

a being like me?’ They don’t condone anything, you’re all

meaning making machines. Searching for words that fit those

intangible feelings. You’re no different than a self proclaimed

broken CD player, skipping words only to try to make

sense of a song in the next sentence.

Photographer Unknown