Darkness 

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July 28th. 2015

Oh, dear old Mother… your empty protective wings, your feet on point, your stare brooding, Mother, you don’t see me. You protect an empty skin what is not mine, whilst I am vulnerable. 

In this dark place I am half naked, I hold up my last strand of rust colored hair, hair from my beloved friend. He is gone. In peace I raise it, you might notice.

I shed a tear, If only also I, could shed my skin.