Her hand were always cold and wet hanging by her side
But they never seemed to ever fully dry off,
no matter how hard she wiped off the swear that coiled and bubbled deep in the folds of her hands wrinkles, outlining her fingerprints
It arose time and time again
each moment it was reminding her of the fear embedded so harshly inside of her. Endless numbers are always counted in her head.
She’s in the room, in the group, a face in the crowd
but is she ever really there?.
Smiles aren’t ever real smiles until she stopped forcing them.
But how could she?
The middle of her cake was always left uncooked, left soft and runny.
she always thought of things like this, strange ideas and thoughts in place of the images of what was happening around her
her mind wandered from them.
Looking at the ceiling she read the brown crayon rubbed across the off white ceiling that read “ I love chocolate milk” it echoed inside her head
All the while it stuck into her like a thorn
How do I get it out?