Maybe I understand, regardless of what I swear to myself. Black is white. The sky is blue, the sea green. We all kneel before that which we are weened from.
So why do I hurt.
She was one of them. Look at the books she carried. Smell the cleaner on her clothes. Look at the fear in her eyes. Christ, it's what we've been told forever. Stay hard, accept no excuses, allow no derivation. Be firm. Your mother demands it.
They all shed tears. Even you shed tears. They all beg. It doesn't grant them a pass. C'mon, we prepared for this. 4AM, the fires, burning eyes, the promises. The hectic, screaming dreams, all cascading down with the catechism. Make the vow, allow none to hide, blind the heretic.
....
I dream of knitting needles.
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