Don’t like him.
Voice
childlike
tired
resigned
hint of the woman she is
the woman she hides behind
hiding the small girl within
barricaded behind steel bars
no one allowed to get close
no one able to find the truth
held close to breast
eyes
bleak
terror filled
twisting hair between fingers
slumped down
fixated beyond this meeting.
Who don’t you like Emmie?
Emmellia
I have told you
time and again
my name is not Emmie
it is and always has been
Emmellia.
Once you went by Emmie.
No more.
Who is it that you do not like Emmellia?
You know who.
And if he persists I will kill him.
Threats are serious Emmellia.
You cannot go around threatening the male staff.
They should learn to keep hands to themselves than.
More fantasies?
Truth.
Screams.
Raw.
Anguished.
Crawled along dark corridor
ringing off empty cells
abused
battered
cling to wall
cling to bear
cling to wildness
get close no one can.
Vacant.
Mouth open.
Soundless pain.
Beside body
orange crew cut
painted scarlet
fear
forever stains his face
so much blood
it is hard to tell
where his ends
and hers begins.
©Dec. 28/20
Picture via Pinterest
The Wonderful and Wacky World of One Single Mom 