III. It wants more to be glad…by G. Mramor


I can already feel your disgusting inside. It grows and makes me grow. But still I am a little thing you say. And because I am a little thing I cannot hold you back and not even my disgusting makes you sad. Because you are a part of me now like I was part of you then. And when my bones shivurr and break I will be the flesh coming out of me, the flesh that is you and me. And without any bones I am a bag of sand and you will leave me there, by the scarecrow by the lake. And the water will come again but I will not be sad because I can feel your disgusting inside and it wants more to be glad.

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