A Fiction



Door 
Of wood 
Unbreakable 
Locked with
A key 
Of relationships 
Can't leave
Can't stay 
A state of prisoner 
I look at 
Myself 
In a state of pity. 

Glass,
Empty 
But filled with toxic air 
The air he breathes 
Comfortably
The air that slowly 
Helps me to die
It smelled like flower
When I stepped inside 
This wooden door
inescapable
Waiting for death 
I look 
at myself 
In a state of pity.

My mum 
At nights
Read me stories of kings and queens 
The king, my father was
The queen my mum was. 
A king I believed 
Born for me 
Staying in a castle
Far away.
I grew up, 
Still believing in 
Him.
He asked me 
I didn't. 
I dreamt for a fairytale,
But it had to break. 
I fell into the reality 
Bruised myself 
Bleed instead being blessed 
I was caught in a knot 
Waiting to be free 
I look 
At myself 
In a state of pity.

I don't read 
Fairytales to 
My angel 
Born to me 3 years ago. 
I know the fight 
I took 
To save her.
Locked up here
Behind wooden door 
Is not just me 
But my angel too.
She knows 
There are no kings and queens 
But she believes in Angels 
The one she finds in me 
She knows I will 
Protect her
No matter what happens. 
That's enough.
She watches him 
Being the beast every evening 
She looks for Ray of light
In dark room 
I look at her,
But why can't he see her? 
He says I am insane and she died
But she is right there 
In front of me. 
How can she be imaginary? 
How can my motherhood be a fiction? 


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