my life – a box
and the walls made of you
you were the one to decide
what went in
what could get out
how shaky it would get or calm
I tried to climb
you pushed me down
when I was too still
you would pin your words
into my flesh
tear it open and paint it red
produce tears
proudly branded by you
my lungs between your index and thumb
as you would define the amount of air
how long I’d breathe and even if
my existence
nothing
yours –
dictatorship
– Veronika Foer
(featured picture by @yannickoetter)
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