I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you…
— “Daddy” by Sylvia Plath (via sarcastic-as-f-ck)
(via pseudopsychedelia)








