I am not the matriarch.
I will not save you and swaddle you in blankets,
or love.
The cookies will be burnt.
Your clothes will not be washed.
I am not the one to take you,
half or whole.
Don't ask for my hand.
Don't touch me.
Don't touch me.
Don't touch.
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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
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