Occam’s Razor

Some people never go crazy
Her demons were never really demons
Her words were directed to no one
But she knew who they were for
They were 13 lines of repressed pain
Thoughts of hunger and war
Saltiness at the tip of her knuckles
She wrote about her battles with nature
Her fight against inferiority
Hers were tears not from all the anger held within
But the forecast of future torments
She didn’t care if she died in battle
She just wanted justice for her children she hadn’t yet conceived
Who would speak for the voiceless?
Her body was just a piece of meat
Meant only for devouring by her predators
Who she was taught in highschool biology that they belonged to her species
So she didn’t understand why they chose her as prey
Some people never go crazy
Toy soldiers were always seen as more serious
Her thighs were owned by her neighbour
Her mouth, by the police officer who was supposed to provide a haven
Her breasts were constantly kidnapped by the pastor who she asked prayer from
Her only solace was that it would all end soon
They could do what they wanted with her body after she’d left it
So she fought one last time for her unborn babies
She watched with a smile through the pain as the last few trickles of blood poured from her wrist
She had won the battle
No child of hers would ever go through this
Some people never go crazy
Her words were directed to no one
So why did it feel like her blood spelt out my name
I was surely not the first priest that looked away
Not everyone was meant to be a good Samaritan
Maybe washing my hands had no effect
I already had a blood bath

2 thoughts on “Occam’s Razor

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