I can hear her crying in the corners of my mind,
Unacknowledged all these years,
A child, alone and helpless with fear.
She was the reality which was never lived,
The voice never heard,
The faith which, betrayed, keeps me bleeding.
Somehow, my world has been experienced inside out,
The adult in childhood, the child now,
Fading between worlds like a ghost in my own skin.
Why do I hear her now, when it is too late to save her,
When no one can reach her anymore,
When her realities have become the misty property of some distant
past?
Somewhere, this child exists,
Wandering the dimness of my mind,
Crying for her mommy.
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