My heart was owned by my daughter's hands since her heart was formed inside of me. She would pull the cords as she pleased, but then one day she let it slip away from between her buttery fingers.
My mind has been tinkered with by all the men who broke my heart time and again, and all the women who just wouldn't care.
I am both here, and there.
I'm inside my body, and outside of it too.
I am being done to, but I'm watching it being done too.
After the pleading has long ago ended, there remained the bleeding. Now it stopped and is drying up, leaving behind the most deepest scars.
"I've made it here!", they shout loudly, proudly. But I count the days until I'm here no more.
The day all earthly actions and sounds will cease to exist, once and for all.
No more humping, no more thumping, no more drumming, no more humming, no more him's, no more hymns... or lullabies.
Only just a farewell march.
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