|
s not in fear of it. Pain like a river, a waterfall, adult video rape
fantasy film cruel an earthquake...pain passedout michigan statutory
rape laws juvenile cruel rape porn scene t like a volcanic eruption
that makes me scream and scream and scream. So much pain to deliver
free cartoon michigan statutory rape laws juvenile cruel rape pics life
firm a life so small. Giving birth was perhaps the most painful and
colorful moment of my life, rape videos young michigan statutory rape
laws juvenile cruel pic feminisation of the ripping of a soul that I’m
not even sure exists. It tore statutory rape definition michigan statutory
rape laws michigan statutory rape laws juvenile cruel juvenile cruel
chat with from me like the wing of bird, disabling my flight through
the azure dawn of female prisoner rape stories prison fell existence.
I felt that when I was crying my tears were made of glass michigan statutory
rape laws juvenile cruel because they hurt as they came out razor edges
carving bloody scars down my cheeks dropping like bullets onto my heaving
chest, dividing lines around my heart, stilling my flowing stream of
consciousness into a stagnant pool of sharp edged and bitter regret.
My whole being became pain. I was a soul writhing in a sea of boiling
agony and I screamed like a wolf that howls in mourning. I screamed
like a bird that soars across the horizon. And all eyes were on me and
I was dying in the pain that engulfed me and swallowed me whole. If
only I could die I would be happy. Laying eyes on my son erased the
pain and closed the wounds on my face and body, it breathed new life
into me and assured me that our souls are real, and that our pain however
intolerable is fleeting and not in vain. I was afraid to touch him as
if he were made out of cotton candy and my fingers could reshape him
and turn him into nothing but so much sugar from which he was made.
My blood marked his body, proving that he was mine. My flesh, my blood,
a new life born of my womb. A new soul to sprout wings and fly if only
I could teach him. Suddenly all my fears and inadequacies as a mother
seemed very real. God trusts us with this great task and I felt so much
less than worthy. God my son...my son... Years later I could not begin
to recall the fervor with which those brief shards of time were lived
and wept and dissolved into a dream filled with nothing more than ashes
of my memories. I held him in my arms feeling his flesh like crushed
velvet, damp with the sweat of his body, his hair resting like strands
of a spider’s web against my scarred chest and divided heart, listening
to the murmur of his life’s breath through parted lips the color of
a peach when it’s cut in the light of the sun. And in those moments
of holding this creature against me I felt like a hollow shell compared
to the brilliance of his life. My son, who stole my life in order to
live, and weak and dying though I am, I will forever see his brilliance
shining thr
|
