laying ladybugs on the garden. drinking tea on warm mornings. clouds are crying water drops. witch goes away while i play with a pink doll. but witch comes back and bellows her vocals. as i dispute with my brother the witch commands for my name. she accurately bullets her hand onto my face and says "there". of course i shower tears. because dammit the witch is my mother. who has abused her second child. the witch isn't apologetic; she doesn't even wear a mournful face. i weep on white bed sheets. nothing else to do but call a dear friend. she answers tardy yet helps me clean the memory of the witch's doing. i snub her even more. she put shit brainwork onto me. i welcomed them and they clobber me. they said that i have an ill appearance, a collapsing human, a sore hore, a no- good child. or was it all me, who put these thoughts in my fuck up eyes. please tell me that i am lunatic and shower me with your sharp objects. because i no longer have a purpose. my mom called me a "screw up". how am i supposed to clear that yesterday flashback. i am out of excuses on why oxygen should be my friend. when i can just take her creation away. to see her ache with concern would be an adorable tv channel for me.
