A poem of a child and her dream of growing up and looking cool like Mama, published on MasticadoresIndia.
Have a great weekend. – shobana
She didn’t know the reason for the cold treatment, until one day, she heard a voice in her head. Someone said that he was speaking to her via satellite and that he could only speak to her for a second or two the most for fear of being traced.
“Marie, you are under surveillance by the British, American, French Intelligence together with your local police. We have been safeguarding you for several years now without you being aware. We have been looking after you and your whole family. We’ll be back.”
Then the voice fizzled out.
(It wasn’t only the police, there was the mafia, the world order and then, there was she…and who was that stranger who cared enough?)