A heavy stack sits in my hands
but the true burden is elsewhere.
The thin paper is curled at the edges,
a fresh, virgin-white newspaper
not yet yellowed
by time’s cruel curse.
It speaks of the future,
of achieving an age of perfection,
yet I know we will never reach
such a time. It is merely
propaganda perpetuated
by our government.
Black smudges coat
my fingertips
as if I had rifled
through the hearth
briefly before I found
what I was looking for.
The aroma of ink permeates
the air, a familiar smell
that lingers in my nose
like an old tabby cat
on a comfy chair. Tiny print
akin to an elf’s handwriting
takes shape in the form
of long columns
that stretch their spines
and fill the parchment.
Hidden inside the lies
is a universal truth,
encoded between lines.
We must revolt against
this benevolent dictator
as he calls himself.
A heavy stack sits in my heart,
but the true burden is elsewhere.
Maggie primarily writes creative nonfiction and about student life for The Pitt News. Write to her at [email protected].