Multiple deaths

Polyvore creation by Sophia  © 

The worn out ending.
Gravely disturbances. Oh no, not again.
Trapped in the waterland labyrinths. Gurgling saltwater.
Tricia prefers lightning. Cogwheels prefer logical reasoning.
Life crisis in Alaska nagging in my head storage. Revoked.
Relate to reality, realist.

Rebirthing babies every second. Staring death in the eye every split second.
Those genes in our bodies have been proceeding for too many centuries.
Too many hours of torture. Exhausting.
This was the last time I put strain on myself and lifted a finger.

Take me away Angel of mercy.

Nothing could ever compensate for these centuries of enormous cruelty that I’ve endured. Robbed of basic needs. Robbed of everything.

Resign inappropriate parents lacking parental responsibilities.
Everything in my life went straight into the dark forest where I processed and worked through it all on my own.
Painted abstract domestic drawings on occupational therapy and put them in my messy drawers and forgot them. Then I threw it all away and burned off the remnants.

Fogged by these inhuman interactions. Continuous encounters with terrorists.
Terror. Let that sink in.

Torture until I died multiple times and don’t exist any longer.
A person can’t exist with so many deaths in the baggage.

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