There is no anesthesia for what you do
There is no anesthesia for
what you do:
you hold me open with your hands,
in front of yourself,
and I am the one who
screams.
There is no anesthesia for
how you do it:
you are the one who asks,
“Are you ready? Are you
ready?”
as if asking me to read the
script.
There is no anesthesia for
what I do:
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