·MARY HELEN·

They broke my fingers and they broke my bones. I am a ghost gasping through the exuberance of life. They haven’t seen horror like I have. The horror that neither moves you nor breaks you, but with one iron palm muffles you. The memories are not within me. They climb up on the walls like …

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CONTRACURRENT

My soul is a violin; it cries for a song to come true and bleeds out an abundance of suffering, a prayer to GOD that I can truly swim above the current till my last breath, like a halo cover me and play softly high up in the air ascending to heaven where I may …

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