บท 6: Mom: Masked or Misled
Enchanting blonde, dyed tresses.
Spoken of the fluid, disheveled rapids.
Ambidextrous fingers, reformed wounds.
Spoken of the latent, snapping threads.
Murmured words, screaming thoughtlessness.
Spoken of the barefaced, hidden knots.
"I love you, don't you understand that?" Her words crack.
She looks at me as if she tried everything;
Hazel eyes fuming and fingers crumble in fists.
My head cocks to the side, the bundle of brunette hair
Moving along with it. I spoke, sporting the iciest glare,
"Excuse me, I got to fix my messy bun again...
It needs to be perfect."
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