By the trash

I don’t know my mother nor my father.

I don’t know how to be a daughter.

It’s been told, to me, I was found nestled between a pea patch and the compost bin behind the city’s most coveted building.

An architectural shrine to the city of beauty, art, music, science, religion and attraction that temps the eyes that are blind.

This building is where my “said” life began… outside by the trash.


Joy Jane June

1st short 02.15.2019 By the trash

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