19.1.11

Mère, je suis désolé.


Her sharp nails pierce through her own thin, papery skin and draws velvet from her veins. 
Silent tears fall from her eyes and more velvet trickles where she bit her lip too hard to stop herself from crying out. Instead, it's best to be silent and face those disapproving eyes and never-ending pressure.

It's not like it doesn't hurt, you know?

So much velvet,
so much pain,
so much disappointment.

[i'm sorry mother, i'm sorry i was born]

No comments:

Post a Comment

Write your thoughts kindly, ... or at least as thoughtfully as you possibly could.