Lilith

The Lilith is everywhere; the Lilith is the trivial manifestation of being a feminist. Evil and angriness are oozing as human blood from the angles of their mouth, sucking the last drops, to pain, seeking to demolish, deform and destroy; to oppose life and disconnect the sole; the transient state to hell.

On that very day the video recording, has opened the door a crack to reveal the serpents and fire behind, showing a child running away from his mother and sitting on the sidewalk to watch with an empty glaze his unexplored environment and while standing up twisting the hands in a none controlled and broken motion, like in a psychological distortion pulling the kin down, watching after the mother as she walks away to attract its attention for half an hour to follow her; and this during at least half an hour. On that very day it was clear that God will not forgive us anymore. We can put that phrase that way. On the very day it was obvious that we Liliths took hold on our lives. It was the first day of two days of hurt aching over the child that cannot understand the pictures and cannot sort out its confusion.  God will not forgive us, for we have let Lilith take a hold on that child. My child. And I was ashamed for not recognizing the Lilith on time. And the child knows it without words. My child. And I have no papers or someone to ask; nobody in the whole big world.

And the Lilith has many faces and they talk aggressively in offices with little plants in small buckets and drawings of little children hanging in the corridors as little alibis and camouflage. And the Liliths have little signs their names nailed o the walls beside their doors. And the Liliths have narrow and tight lips and sheer hate in the eyes they try to disguise for to deceive. And a smirk in the mouths when they stab with trained words to pain. And Lilith told me I will see the child in fourteen or sixteen years; deciding in ten minutes. And the fast blaze of triumph crossed her eyes, and all I could see in front of my eyes is the face of my little child with a crumbled grimace on it, tortured with the efforts to understand the pictures. And I could not help, and I cannot help. And I was ashamed in front of that vision, and I was shamed for the Lilith we could not stop. For all the Lilith so many have let take a hold on that child. My child. And I am ashamed to live long enough to see that low humans taking shape of the Lilith and mistaken it with strength. And the child is still sitting on the floor.

And I have no papers or someone to ask; nobody in the whole big world. And the night is long.