Zywa
Summer wound
The door is open
Something happened and I
don't dare to move
Was there a man?
Where are her clothes?
What is this smell?
Should I call the police?
Her hand lies protectively
between her legs
Did she hear me?
She doesn't look up, something
is wrong, she is despondently
slumped against the bed
the sheets pulled to the floor
under her bare lower body
the clip still in her hair
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