Goodbye Father.
Thank you though
For bringing Azami back,
Back from the dead.
The doll you made
Is no longer a doll.
Azami lives now
Within me and the doll.
Controlled?
No, I'm not.
Azami said it would be right,
That butterfly is wrong.
The doll is my sister
And she told me
You wanted her gone.
Is that true Father?
Did you Father
Really want me to suffer
Losing my sister,
My twin, again?
Goodbye Father,
But thank you.
You brought Azami
Back from the land of the dead.
The butterfly tells of disastrous lies
They are not true.
Azami is not evil.
How could you say such a thing?
My hands tighten around your neck
And slowly drain the life,
Like they did to my dear sister.
My dear sister Azami.
What one is real?
What one is fake?
Surrounded on both sides
By a mirror image of the other.
So young they were.
No older than 8 or 9,
But forced to condemn each other.
Forced to feel the pain.
The pain of loneliness,
The pain of possession,
The pain of anger,
The pain of the ritual.
