From the day that I was born,
my mother wanted an explanation!
"What's wrong with you?"
I dreaded the day
when I would have to explain...
so, I refused to talk until I was three!
then...
"What the hell are you doing?"
"What the hell are you thinking?"
now...
all these years later,
if I am sad or mad or scared,
I panic.
"What the hell am I feeling?"
someone wants to know.
Nothing. I am feeling nothing.
Nothing beyond the explanantion point!
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