photo by the author

dónde

zaria rashay

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a poem

when did the
bull-fisted bitch leave?
i cannot tell you when
the girl arrived in
the first place.

where did she
come from anyway?
i sent her back to her
father’s disapproving gaze,
and there she will stay.

when did the
whimpering weakling leave?
i cannot tell you when
the girl arrived in the
first place; leave her be.

where did she
come from anyway?
i sent her back to her
mother’s iron board,
and there she will stay.

when did the
revolving door leave?
i cannot tell you when
the girl arrived in the
first place; forget her now.

i want to express my heartfelt gratitude to you for taking the time to read my work. it really means the world to me. feel free to clap, comment, and/or highlight; your support is genuinely valued on my end. if you are curious on how to and/or willing to further support me. you can buy me a pen. i also value good ol’ fashion word of mouth, so please feel free to share my piece and consider exploring this blog post. thank you again for reading this far.

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zaria rashay

the nighttime musings of a poetess. in the daylight i sew things and play at production design. ig @zariarashay youtube: zariarashay