Hidden Storybooks

More ingredients in the mix, each with its own relationships. Memories of overwhelm.

Next-door neighbors, laughter, and joy—a foreign land.

Storybooks held a different narrative than the one witnessed from the top of the stairs.

Blank pages I don't know how to fill. Nine months equated to lifetime guilt.

I did not choose to enter; it's they who called.

Touch irks, conversations filled with emptiness, and trust nowhere to be found.