Henna Sjöblom

Murder Tramp Birthday


Let me tell you a secret.
I don’t want to be a writer.
I have a reoccurring fantasy
in which I’m 12 and lying in a hospital bed, tubes stuck to my tiny breasts
faces made of broken glass smiling down at me
and telling me I’m going to be someone successful,
someone adored

So let me be Sylvia, I plead,
or dear Margaret, they knew how to turn their abuse
into words,
but I am not a writer,
I’m just a girl who had a lot of bad luck you see,
writing was not my first resort.
I was going to live an ordinary life,
study medicine and live in a yellow house by the lake
with my loving husband and a dog.
That dream started to shatter when
I realized I was not the doctor
but the patient,
caught in a gown of literary compulsions,
walking like…

View original post 133 more words

Author: Sudden Denouement

A Global Literary Collective

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