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The child, blonde, enters the world red
and screaming

Over time she learns to be silent, like they always do.

She stands, cruicified by the wind,
her small frame leaving brilliant cascade's
in the deserted playground.

Her mother watches in the shadows,
Fighting off the rat faced men with her broomstick.

Child, I cannot protect you forever, I must shield you.

Mother, I donotneedyourguidance.

The child, blonde, runs back to the playground, everyday, pumping her tiny legs, up and down and round and round, on the rusted swingset.

I do not need you mother, I do not need you mother. Let go of me.

The mother, dissipating with her child’s
Drive towards freedom,
Furiously shatters her promises of lettinghergrow.
You do need, child, or you will die.

The child Grows, Will you please just let me go?
The mother crumbles, I must stay strong for you.

The child, blonde, rushes towards the kitchen
Piling food
Into her empty heart.
I am in need.

The mother, dying, pats her rumpled housecoat,
Grabs the car keys,
And drives to fill the empty time.
Child, where have you gone?

Motherrrr! I am dying! Can you see me now?

Child, tears well up in the old woman’s eyes, you are

If I could I would take it all back, the child says, her
Voice echoing sadly over the grounds of the barren

I’m so sorry I was n e v e r there, the mother, foot on
The gas pedal, spills her salty tears onto the steering

The child, blonde and skeletal, slowly drags herself
To the twisted aluminum slide,
Where she lets herself die.
Mother, I’m sorry, I never really meant it…

The mother, ancient and lonely, drops her hands from
The steering wheel,
For once being able to fly.
Child, I’m sorry, I should have let you go…
I never knew…

Briggita M.

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The following comments are for "A dissapearing Act"
by Glass hair of a virgin bride

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