I don’t go looking for any father because I have God. And God sends me stuff because I talk to Him. Naturally He’s the number-one father. But I’m a kid. I need a father’s voice, and poor God don’t have a voice. I like voices for some reason. I dunno why. Sometimes people’s voices make me want to cuddle them. But I’m really scared of cuddling.
My body won’t work if someone tries to cuddle me. I like my aunt Lily and it hurts her feelings I won’t cuddle her. I really want to. But I freeze and in my head I see a mountain of wolves all covered in blood, so much that they can’t move, and only one wolf is running about, the one who was at the very bottom of the pile when whatever happened happened and it has no blood on it. It’s looking for help.
No comments:
Post a Comment