White Ribbons

This house is colder than ever,

Its walls leaving frosty fingertips

And icy, freezing beds.


No one sleeps anymore

With the winter ghost wandering around.

The coldest silence I’ve ever seen

Presses my chest and leaves me gasping for air.
Here it goes again.

Under the tables echoes scream,

Shout and tell forgotten fairytales.


Everyone here grew from rotten wood,

And I wonder if the seed named damned

Planted in my hair
grows inside me—

Or if it blooms from hers.

On the table, the fruit is still bitter,

Tasting like the last time I was happy,

And I’m left hungry for days.

Oh, mother,

I lie on this blood-stained floor,

Counting cracks, notes, and whispers,

Until nostalgia overflows my bones and cracks my tears.

You follow me around to torture my soul;

You know what you’re doing,

Dressing yourself in pity.

Can’t feel my soaked eyes anymore,

Losing my marbles for a few moments of peace,

Measuring the days until I escape.

I was once your baby—


White ribbons in her tangled brown curls,

Cheeks stained with profound misery,
A fragile little thing in your hands

Whom you loved and cared for.

Let me feel the warmth of your love again.

Wrap me in your embrace,

Soft-spoken words to fall asleep.

Tell me that I’m all you desire.

Lie and tickle my heart
as if I were still your baby,

Or what’s left of her.