misery passed down like silverware, generation after generation, always the same knife, just passed down with increasingly elaborate excuses; each woman convinced she's the one who'll finally polish it into something resembling love. To me what's more tragic is that they were too exhausted from surviving to realize they were allowed to ask questions.
misery passed down like silverware, generation after generation, always the same knife, just passed down with increasingly elaborate excuses; each woman convinced she's the one who'll finally polish it into something resembling love. To me what's more tragic is that they were too exhausted from surviving to realize they were allowed to ask questions.
Ouch
damn..
this pierced right through my heart