Epoch Apothecary Poem by Zahraa Song

The industrious hand that never stops
It’s inconspicuous effect on youth
Who forget that once peeled is lost forever
Once gone into that fissure will, dear children,
Become the nothingness by which you exist

Then one day we will scurry for those peels
Raw fingers scratching the earth
Urged on by desperation
Fuelled by unforgivable regret
That nothing should you learn but
These words you shall not forget

I know because my fingers are still raw
The skin on my knees ripped and torn
Just like the life that should have been
Just like the now which I could have seen