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Dec 2022
The questions are repeated and our hands held out frantically.
Catching the words but waiting to be handcuffed.
I try to catch their words.
Eye contact is weak and the sirens start, shrapnel falling around my body.
This noise is making our ears bleed. I collapse, begging for rest.
Buried in this shipwreck,
I don't see my escape route or a breathing device.
I've been laid to rest.
Held hostage in a tomb, I thought this was normal.
A lack of chemicals and too much flesh,
All of those 28 years,
Throwing grenades into mirrors.
I often reflect on that girl,
But how would they have known,
It was always the boys.
So there I forrage,
Still laid in my tomb.
I can't keep focus and the nights are creeping in.

A new life with this tiny spirit,
Mindset is shifted.
New soul you changed the perspective,
Foraging reveals a crack of light,
My hands and brain are numb.
The water feels light,
Salty optimism fills the air.
"Its true" he says while he files through the ripples,
He confirms my suspicions.
The reflection is clear, I hold the explosives but i don't make the call.
"Its okay" she's says, "you can take off your mask now."
I look down at my little spirit,
Taking in all those 28 years,
"You're perfect" he says.
"Put those weapons down,
Your war is over."
Rebecca Jones
Written by
Rebecca Jones  25/F/UK
(25/F/UK)   
75
 
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