A Journey

Modern Mystic Mother

She enters the room.

The walls are bare,

The bed is stripped,

A suitcase placed in the

Middle of the floor.

A note is written on pristine paper,

A tear trickles down

Her cheek.

The closet is empty,

The suitcase is heavy,

She didn’t have to do a thing.

She drags the suitcase down

The hall way,

It wobbles and scratches the walls.

She reaches the door,

Her eyes to the floor,


And exits the entrance.

The cold brisk air bites her nose.

Walking outside

The door slams her behind,

A wry smile creeps across her lips.

She sniggers,

Her eyes red and bitter.

The first few steps

Are shaky and uncertain.

She purses her lips,

Teeth clenched.

Her stride lengthens,

Footing firm,

She lets go of the baggage

And leaves it behind.

Her fingernails dig into her wrists,

Signature strawberry scratches.

She reaches the overpass

Where pedestrians are…

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