Red Strings and Murder Boards

From the Bluestockings Community ✦

Bluestockings is, above all, a space for voices, stories, and ideas worth sharing. This piece was submitted by a member of our community and selected for our blog because it made us think, feel, question, or see something differently. The words that follow belong to its author, and we’re honored to give them a space to be heard.

About the Author: Maya K. is a self-diagnosed teen writer who indulges in the beauty of poetry while simultaneously attempting to write several thematically distinct novels. She has a deep appreciation for visually striking cinematography and believes empathy is an all-too-forgotten virtue. She aspires to live by the words, "Art is nothing if it simply decorates the dinner table of the power that holds it hostage."

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Red Strings and Murder Boards

There are pushpins stuck in my skin,

There’s red string stuffed down my throat,

There are allegations broadcast in my head;

Wrapped around me like a coat,

This string doesn’t unravel,

It twists every which way,

And I’ve got no coherent argument;

My defenses turned gray,

I cannot argue with myself,

I’m stuck in a tunnel devoid of light,

And my bones are heavy and muscles restrained,

For me to remember how to fight,

I’m a suspect on the murder board,

There’s nowhere for me to hide,

My pictures are up; unfortunate victim,

Of the parts of me that died.

@written_by_maiyya

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