SINKING
I have become that which I hate most; a badly badly baked bread amidst all the sweet scented ones. I have no fragrance. I do not even have a base odour. I am just not ready to be cut into equal slices and packed in a branded paper. I am not ready to be eaten with eggs by a family whose head belch in satisfaction after the first cup of coffee. Nor am I ready to be shared among filthy kids with mucus washing their surprised faces; they’d be in awe of me as their almost toothless mother,after ten years of beatings,tears the paper around me and watches me in naked admiration. It has been long but still,I am no ready.
