November 1998, a girl was fallen from the broken apple tree bough.
Planted in north west side of a cat shaped ground.
Perfect habitat for the strong to judge, and for the weak to scream how?
“Hail to house wives” they howled.
How can you ask more than what you have, “They’ll head us”! we hummed and laughed.
Every night she wet the bed thinking this will be the last.
Hiding in her dreams, wished upon the fallen leaves.
Hoping that the cold breeze speed the process and
Hint her, she is at home, “relax”.
Heard the sad news instead.
Have what’s given, wanting is a crime.
Apples are to be eaten and procreate even.
One day after she was threatened to be eaten.
Owning her head she set the tree on fire, took her seeds and left.
Opened her eyes wide for any sign of security.
Overlooked the past trauma she was ready to fight with the world that was once banned.
Mornings were alarmingly heavy with the weight of her head.
Memories of that madhouse made her feel relaxed.
Trauma was her only company.
So, eventually they became best friends.
Murmured the cold winter breeze the hunting fact: this new place will kill her slowly so, sit back and "relax".
Ending this sickness will be ending her at last.
Engorged her big heart out of her chest.
Entered the seed of her love into the ground.
Earth watched her decay, her old parts.
Helped her build the safest brick walls.
These days I wake up with ease of mind.
Holding nothing but the sweet mindful weight on my neck.
As long as I am me, I’m home.
Broken or whole.
No need for the breeze to remind me of that.
I know it in my bones it's a fact.
About the Creator
Writing is a form of self-care for me. With that being said, I wish to create a pen that makes band aids. So, if you ever cut yourself on love, hate, or depression, just come here. let me lend you one. Hopefully, it will stop the bleeding.