The Nursery

by Szilvia Molnar

She forces me to go on. So, I go on. I must go on. But from where do you pull more of yourself after you have given everything? And yet you do, you do have more. From some core, you keep breathing. It is not the child that is at war with you, you are at war with yourself, and time is the referee. Unforgiving most times with the occasional mishap and vulnerable to persuasion.