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Rated: · Poetry · Other · #1887560
Well.. what can I say?



you see this lady here?
some would call her my mother
others might call her my aunty
i even knew someone who thought she was my grandma
funnily enough, i call her none of those things.


when her water broke, people thought it was part of the plan
but the truth is, well
you see, when i was inside her
a little spermie came and whispered in my ear;
it told me about my father and his mouse-shit eyes
and i cried, and cried, and cried
that's why her water broke
and i hope it hurt, too.


now i wish, in my recovery position cage,
i had chewed the walls of her stomach
to a bellied red sea of refuge
she would spew ruthless faucetted crimsons,
and people would call that a miscarriage


you see, when i was still unborn
i had a chance to escape the gloves that urged my first blink
what chance do i have now but to wait
wait
wait

see, the moon rising is a sin
the night is grey and insecure
if you look to me, i might sell some light...
but i assumed i'd never cry again
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