pain | Mum In The Madhouse

pain

All that Remains

mastectomy, pain, poem / By

White on white, raised and hard So obviously foreign in their origin Not flowing, not organic Just Jagged and sharp Like quiet footsteps on a hard floor Pattering against the soft smooth skin puckered, raw and taught  Alien in the lunar landscape gripping pain, prevents rest and sleep no amount of rubbing can realise me

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