Mother.

Trapped by timber and unlit candles.

This crone who decorates a home with untruths. Paying fastidious attention to her own bitterness.

She, whose negativity resonates so deftly to others, yet so clearly to me and the too few... becoming a fluid entity that can masquerade as ghosts and move through the grey walls.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Mother, for you I can't feel.

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