Liminal Prayer

It’s a fight. I’m fighting. We are fighting; my body and I.

Without weapons or brute strength, I fight like a mother watching beauty be fed filth.

Imagine the her, mother, famished by illusion. Now, the he, father, rummaging through rubbish for sustenance to perpetuate said illusion.

My heart hurts. This is vitality.

 

 

 

via Daily Prompt: Liminal

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