The seed of disobedience.



The wound i had by the side of my shoulder was healing, mama said to leave it alone and give it time as she pecked me on the cheek and turned off the light

Then came the voices, lift your hand boy, peel at the wound,  you know it will "sweet you",  the shifting of sinuses and muscular tissues in my hand which obeyed the voices in my box upstairs, 




I scratched once; a striking pain




Twice; i could feel the skin in my hand as i saw the small pool of blood on the face of the broken sore, did it "sweet me"?  i still cant tell the feeling i got when i tore the wound open, all my box told me was mama was right and the voices were wrong.

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