at his dim-lit face —
a coat, red-brown,
in shredded space.
Inside — a woman.
Tired. Sour.
Cracked. Pale.
Numb. Hollow.
She looks at him —
but through the glare,
her mother
waits already there.
He speaks —
a voice from underground,
choked and faint,
a drowning sound.
She blinks.
Still there —
the same nightmare.
“Why do you slouch?”
“Such ugly hand.”
“How dare you talk to me like that?”
She looks at him —
but through the glare,
her mother
waits already there.
He speaks —
a voice from underground,
choked and faint,
a drowning sound.
She blinks.
Still there —
the same nightmare.
“Why do you slouch?”
“Such ugly hand.”
“How dare you talk to me like that?”
“You’re straight out of the hell.”
“Try to think — if you even can.”
The air goes thick.
Her eyes go blind.
Salt and smoke
rewind her mind.
He moves his lips —
but she is gone
“Try to think — if you even can.”
The air goes thick.
Her eyes go blind.
Salt and smoke
rewind her mind.
He moves his lips —
but she is gone
Too deep.
Too fast.
Too far withdrawn.
To where
her mother
split the core —
and left a girl
who trusts
no more.
Too fast.
Too far withdrawn.
To where
her mother
split the core —
and left a girl
who trusts
no more.
08.05.2025
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