The weak ones.
Don't cry. Do not cry. If they see me I will surely face their punishment.
They're watching. They are hidden but we all know they're watching.
As the curtain closes around my beloved daughters coffin, I hold my breath and bite my lip. I must not cry.
At home, in my own space and I still cannot cry. You're not weak. You can do it. You must not cry.
The light outside fades, and I almost believe that I am alone. I can feel it rising within me, my throat begins to tighten.
I can hold it in no longer, a long repressed sob escapes my lips. That was all it would take, they would be here soon. Now all I would know from here would be the darkness and isolation of the weak ones.
I am one of them now. Forever.
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