The prompt: Convince Gen Z to look both ways before crossing the street.
Here also lies a poem I wrote when I was feeling particularly dramatic:
1:55 AM
In the darkest corners of what should be sound
I find my eyelashes are moths
Eating through the flesh and bone of cotton sheets
And sleep is the one thing they will not touch
So my fingers trace the spaces you once took up
As if my skin is not my skin
And my limbs are just extensions of you -
Because for a few brief moments
I was the space that you took up
And my eyelashes were butterflies
And we just slept.