victoria has lovely hands, the colour of fresh parchment veins like ribbons and fingernails like polished marbles she doesn't know that she took her mother's vanished beam, and not her father's wolfish grin
they peer at her body like it's a tight rope the ends are coming loose, fraying at the edges
stuck in between two metal poles, they want to hung it up outside the fortune teller's tent she doesn't need a crystal ball to see the days she spent in dread of getting chastened
she holds milky way in her crystalline giggle that leaves splinters in their eschewed mind
on her way to the orphanage, made in the age of steel her legs shaking she can't run anymore she is losing sight her mind swallowing up the steel beams she is no orphan but an abomination who is unwanted and unloved by her virtuous mother & who refuses to accept her atrocious father's evil and cruel deeds
she only fears what she is, a curse child, a rape child to be explicit but you shouldn't say the "r" word
audibly she just wants to be gathered safely in her mother's arms she knows it wasn't her mother's fault she was assaulted and impregnated by her molester but then what is her's?
her father is already in the prison, unaware of her very existence who can she denounce? looking for the answers in the pile of eternal blaspheme