Yesterday, I was the pink little girl eating everything that is eatable. I was given fruity nightmares and dreams of illusion. I have been guzzled with fake love and attributes of lies, my feelings were wasted into fat meats, greasy views, and slippery judgements. My core opened to the delicatessen.

I had been locked into manipulation’s paddock, educated to be easy to handle.

How could I shout when I eat all the time? How could I talk when I had a mouth full?

Today, time for butcher, the slaughter of my delusional past has come…

I’ll soon be in the window, exposed to street reality. Delirium has to end.

Come, ladies and gentlemen, enter the shop of my pain, purchase some of my history, I am selling my own self to the world…

As from today, I’ll be a woman, a daughter and a wife to the ones I have chosen. I love the ones who love me.

(I am not the heroine of Truismes from Marie Darrieussecq!)

(Photo: Cloned Pigs from Pascal Bernier)

(pour la traduction, apprenez une langue étrangère…)