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grieving / revolutionaries in mothering ourselves

I am a child as accessory

As desperation in femininity

An extension of your life leisure

I am a grown accessory

A substitute solidified

My feet are not round nor square

They can land in a shopping bag beautifully

Carry me around like accessory

I am a human soul in a play room

In despair in femininity

A child as an accessory*

A substitute so petrified

I change and I grow

I am and am not

A substitute solidified

I like the child in me don’t hate it

I love the weariness and the carrying around

It is mine and I don’t hate it

The child in me is hugging my feet and asks me to

Please don’t break it

You are a human bit so whole

I see your very soul

She says

*original artwork prints available at Artworld :The Gallery,

Charilaou Trikoupi 59, Eksarxeia

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