A woman's misery

2

you keep asking me those questions, "what's your age?", "who's your family?"

and i'm very confused  why do you care about me that much

but let me begin by telling you about that time i wanted to make a cake

i didn't even know where to start, i didn't know the ingredients, or where to search for them

so i didn't make that cake, i just sat there. still, in my place.

i know you find that this doesn't mean anything, but i wanted to tell you that the questions you ask are just like that cake to me, i don't who's my family, i don't know how old is my age.

i know that, in silence there is death,

 i think if you stayed silent for too long, like me, you would understand how it would kill the living parts in you,

 how you will not know the difference between memory, reality, and imagination.

i'll tell you anything, i'll tell you all the stories

but please don't ask me again.