Imposter by Rae Iolene

Imposter 

“We get to decide how this goes,” I say. 

But the imposter replies:

It’s too late. It’s too late. It’s too late. 

The mysticism surrounds it, 

a lethal fog of cat videos and Reddit threads.

But I continue,

because I cannot exist except to write.

Write that poem about the moon,

Or write that short story about the stars, the voice says.

What do you see? What do you see? What do you see?

But I do not use it, I remind myself. 

I do not offload my thinking to a machine,

Despite the many buttons wanting me

to send a pre-written email. 

I’ll do it myself, thanks.

And then I remember:

"Technology is built by people and 

on people." A system grounded in flawed 

Logic can only do more harm than good. 

Let me write. Let me write. Let me write. 

xx. Rae Iolene 

22 April 2026