Lucrezia’s mind disturbs people, they cannot see the world in her colours.
Her mind does not want to be conformed as she harms nobody.
In Lucrezia’s mind are so many images.
All of them speaking to her at once.
Lucrezia desires these images to jump inside the outward frame.
For hours she paints her face, fabricates her hair and perfumes her body.
In the expectation that someone acknowledges what she sees and reflects.
But it never happens, she is grey to most people, and yet she feels so out there.
A screen gives her more sensations than reality.
She thinks she must let the outside in.
On her own everything is so much more powerful as she orchestrates and takes her time.
Everybody thinks she is a waster of time and they don’t get where she is coming from.
The teachers screech that Lucrezia has too much imagination.
Denouncing her writings, waving them into her mother’s face.
The stories she dared to write down and where were they coming from?
Lucrezia is depraved and disturbed.
Lucrezia gave up on love in her teens.
She thinks she doesn’t deserve it, she’s chubby and full of complexes.
She only deserves some penetration, no acknowledgement.
She herself is censored, goes unmentioned, sees herself as an idealised mistress.
Lucrezia is the whore on the high-school campus.
Now she is safe nowhere. Judged by everyone.
She does not recognise herself in the stories people tell about her.
Who is this grey protagonist who only shares my name?
Her colours go unseen once more.
Lucrezia stares at her naked feet and cries in isolation.
Whose feet are these? She cannot feel them.
Lucrezia’s hands wander over her legs and her touch is numb.
Lucrezia’s body never belonged to her.
Everybody claimed it, except for her.
A body moulded by the outside world.
Lucrezia’s mind was the only thing that was hers.
Cut off from her body: Denunciation.