a series of vignettes
Abrasive. That word will never break free from the confinements of my mind. Abrasive was used as a dagger to draw blood, to injure me. But much to the dismay of the vocalists, abrasive was I a word I welcomed. It became a part of me. It was reassurance that I was not subservient, not gelded. That I am a force to be reckoned with and beware all those whom attempt to contain me, to tame me, to control me.