Chapter 60: D squareD
Urge to breathe,
Nothing to escape;
Lungs too plastic.
Higher pitched screams
As fingers crumble in fists
Lips chapped; sticky even.
"Whose stronger than this bitch"
My nail picks the cloth-y chair,
Of my car seat.
The need to drive.
Glasses hanging -
Of the slope of my skin,
Snot begging
To drip;
Like those tears pouring.
"Why not you just come in and talk?"
"Because I'm too scared of her."
Stand up for yourself.
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