I can not tell the story of my suffering for I have none. I can give you pictures of words that my mind forms in pieces because it can not comprehend the fullness of them. 12:55pm is the place where I sit locked away wrapped in turmoil hoping for something to come save me.

Nothing.

Nothing is what is coming for me. And I have it coming. Like pools of teacup blood boiling away in the witch's eyes and I can't see it for what it truly is.