12 years too late

Now you want to talk?
After my soul died hundred times in blackness of my room?
Now you say, let us talk.

Now you wonder who am I?
After watching me suffer and leaving me alone in pain?
Now you wonder why I no more cry?

Now you want my trust
after being the first witness of my exhausted corps and struggle of my word
now, after I am no longer empty crust?

Now you want to help me
after you pushed me to confront the world and its horror on my own
now my rock you want to be?

And now you want to guard me
after my soul was devastated by demons and kicked as a rubbish
and thousands of times drowned in betrayal sea?

You would like to give me advice?
After my skin is scarved by the knife of life knowledge, after pretending
you don’t hear my cries, cold as ice?

Now about my life, you bother –
now, when I learned how to breathe roses and swim in freedom?
Well, now…no thanks, mother.

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