September 2024

The pattern continues to fit me into places I don't want to be. I get my voice shadowed over by it, my slippers taken by. No voice escapes while I am trapped under this veil, I suppose it doesn't for anyone. I hear you blasting music on your phone, I hear you talk about your birthplace, I don't hear you anymore. Where have you been? What took you so long? So you couldn't make it. Wethraav oush, oush wethraav.