• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 04
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My Name is Dominika

If my icy stare startles your pitiful glare,
it's because of my empty living tomb -
My internal eternal gloom.

Let my lily-white complexion not divert
your eyes from my shameful family
connection – As his pursed determined
lips harden with each painful grip.

If my Siberian glinting orbs conjure up
tales of icy warmongering wars, then
drown in my lifeless fading frown -
As we guard this forlorn beastly town.

Don't be fooled by the pristine homely
ordinary facade, rather try to hear my
beaten beating bleating bleeding heart -
For my traditional pristine pressed dress
hides his painful camouflaged cursed
carnivorous caress – Each daily chore
ends with his vodka vomiting lustful
roar, this beast whose once saintly
heart is no more.

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My Name is Dominika

Here, deep in the Magadan region in
remote Siberia, I am stripped from any
remaining human criteria – This wretched
gulag laboured hellfire hellhole, my heart
now fossilised extinct charcoal. Charred
by an incestuous deranged relation – My
childhood no ordinary formation. His
fork his daily pitch, a reminder of my cursed
creation – His wrathful armageddon
orchestration.

My exterior symbolising my cultural
failure, my absent saintly saviour.
I bear unseen blotched tokens, my
liquid hate daily thickens – My shame
forever unspoken, as I yearn for freedom
from this soulless heathen.

Never again will I hear sweet motherly
cheer or a living infant dear – Only fiery
fear from a twisted relation dear. No-one
to guide or kindly steer – You will find no
hot blooded human here, only unimaginable
abused marble veneer -

So if you hear a story of brave souls
out to seek her, tell them it's me -

My name is Dominika.

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