Superstitious Belief

She was never the superstitious type.
Never believed someone could use a needle to hurt another.
How could the physical be connected in such a way?
How could The soul travel on invisible paths to an inanimate object?
There was so much she couldn’t fathom.
Touring her intellect to fit the puzzle together.
It just couldn’t be.
Her belief had betrayed her.
She was drowning in air.
Every time she thought about him she couldn’t breathe.
There was no other logical explanation.
Forced to believe in superstition.
There must be a doll out there; stitched of her image.
How else could she be feeling this way?
Her heart felt like a dart board, pierced by too many needles.
He had full control.
He caused her nothing but pain and she couldn’t explain it.

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