by Mo Isom Aiken | On-Camera Work, Poetry
Freedom Redefined So picture this scene, you’ve raped and you’ve pillaged. You’ve murdered, you’ve lied, you’ve destroyed a whole village. And when the High Courts catch you, you’re guilty of crime. You’re covered in blood, you’re punished to die. They explain...
by Mo Isom Aiken | Poetry
I am but clay in the potter’s hands, a mass amongst many in the workshop of life. Formless and shapeless, no use or demands, simple and naive, unfamiliar to strife. To my left rest many, resembling me, but they’re hardened and drying, crumbling in state....