You and me, we know each other.
You, voice of reason, burning anger and seething claws when needed, your mind a dirty puddle of writhing bodies and sweat. You laugh and you make him laugh again, you listen and you let him speak. Born from what he despises yet always his daughter.
I, panic and fear, not able to defend myself against the raging despair that makes me curl up and always looking for easy exits. Easy, always easy. Manipulative woman with her blood red lips, beats you senseless before it hits. Torture for the body, healing for the soul. I am but remnants yet still you love me.
Yes, you and I we know.
We are alone in Schrödinger’s Room, for the sake of tragedy, the Greek kind.