Battle for the Truth


the internet is a machine of complacency 
my neck a battleground for the hands of the foolish 
i want to choke on the words 
that do not belong to me 
i want to spit back the fake news like 
crumpled cash in a coin machine 
interrupt the narrative 
like every are we there yet 
from the backseat of mama’s car 
when google maps didn’t call my mouth a home 
know my address like every 
where am i?
can be answered in 
a number 
a value 
the amount of followers on an instagram page 
i want to click refresh on our history 
and know that I would be proud 
of every trip that i’ve made 
i want to know the footprints i follow 
once belonged to a beating heart 
that the truth bleeds the same color 
as a bit tongue and stained teeth 
the riot cannot be seen when the battleground 
has been closed to the public 
when our history will soon be closed to the public

By Mya Rigoli


This poem is a response to hardtruth #29:

"interrupt the narrative."

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