when you are five you speak in fairytales
you say big words like mommy is evil and daddy is a king
you call yourself a princess
you insist on tiaras for your birthday
you command your parents to love you
and everything feels right
when you are fifteen you speak in pain
a burnt stray lashing at the smoke
you are a reservoir for the world's cries
you steal the pain of strangers
because pain is no longer a possession
it is your identity
you are a marked woman
the synecdoche of suffering
a bruise that breathes
you wanted to be bigger
you wanted to walk the labyrinth of life and win
you had no idea that it was a maze
that there is no way out, only forward
the thorn bushes sting and you have no time to smell the roses
but didn't you ask for this?
didn't you ask for this?
YOU ARE READING
HYSTERIA
Puisiand i will ruin you for loving me. and you will love me for ruining you. an attempt to reclaim the madness that defines femininity
