I'm wearing a black broken-heeled show. I'm left foot barefoot. I'm growling. It becomes a roar.
There are many wild dogs inside me. My throat opens. Different sounds unleash. Im whirling round and round, stumbling, falling, catching myself, pulling myself back, focusing my gaze on the people sitting on the floor.
The roar is huge. I am terrified. She catches my eye. I'm scared. It's my anger, her anger, all our angers. Still I whirl. I want her to stop. Stop. Stop roaring at me. Stop. Please stop.
1 comment:
Good morning, since I see you every day , I know the date of the day, I know where to put myself, timewise, - I shall collect nettles and visit you soon.
C.S.
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