The Old Lady

She lives in a dark place.
Deep inside my body, around the navel.
She sits there in bitterness.
Pure intolerence.
Denying, ignoring anf fighting the rithm of my heart.
Boiling her anger into a painful ball
Just so I have to spit it out.
Onto my ennvironment.
In traffic. My own actions. My loved-ones' actions...

This time, I caght her red-handed.
I promised her: "I'm taking you to drink. You know what's comming."

She looked frightend at me and the pain resided inside me.

She is smart, and cunning.
She just made me believe she went away.
So now I have this new question for Mother Aya: "Who Am I? What is my real name?"
I realise this is a trick!
The old lady doesn't want me to take her to The Mother.
She wants me to take the new question.

I know who I am.
I don't need a name.