by Yizheng Ke

She can feel something breaking in her, collapsing, a huge iridescent balloon ripped and graying like a punctured lung. What's left, if you take away love? Just brutality. Just shame. Just ferocity. Just pain. What becomes of her gifts then? (...) All her acts of careful tending.

Margaret Atwood, The Robber Bride

You hurt me And Tell me to shut up And then you azt like nothing happened-mom

I dont want to sleep

If I cant sleep with you

But baby

I told the stars about you..

Do u belive the lies they talk about me?

-rumours

Sometimes i just cry

And hope

That God Will notice my sorrow

And have mercy on me

And suddenly

She felt nothing

-too much feelings