these are images of forgotten time that she wanna keep floating, if not disposed, in the abyss. her’s was the boogieman in her childhood and that day she was coerced and willingly gave life crossed-thumbs-down on her naked neck.
she never speak of and try not to look back to. she devoid herself of any relic, so she thought she has.
there was no mark left by the healed wound to remind her of why that brokenness.
because there was no scar, because there was no healing.