s o s
It slowly comes in slo-mo
the smell, smoke, swirling the air in front of you
starring in the darkness with my hair standing still, but not my heart
stumbling in my chest while I silently scream and being
scared

and you say
O

suddenly, it turns into a spear with the speed of a hundred
one second spent until you realise it's too late
stabbing through your front and comes back again through your back
somehow somewhere your mind still says 
oh I can stand this pain

without an SOS sign
suspicious harm of love keeps you 
standing still in the silence of the sadness hugging arms.
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Written in this book
fairly(a)tale
Poems through fantasized thoughts
Writer
Gingginee
Diverse roles of a woman to be
Believed to be strong and independent, but part of me desires to be soft and vulnerable.

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