Someday I’ll stand on this small island and watch all the bridges burn
I’ll turn, take in the full three hundred and sixty degrees
I’ll breathe, taking in the smoke from my social pyre
I’ll feel higher
Finally above it all
I’ll sprawl, singular in my space
Tracing letters in the sand
No more fear of losing face
I’ll erase them with a motion
My little island etch-a-sketch
Alone in this vast ocean