Our Future Generations Deserve Abundance, Not “State of the Art” Prisons
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I felt it birth in my core and sneak its way up my windpipe. It slithered over my vocal cords and caught in my throat just for a second. Its rancid flavor morphed into an unfamiliar word and settled on my tongue, disgusting my taste buds. It escaped my clenched teeth and forced its way through my tightly pursed lips before finding its place in my unwelcoming ears — “numb.” This was my body’s…