Mother of All Depression

I can’t stand these kids don’t they see

My bones marinated in depression, brittle


Beaten by the memories I

can no longer tell them like I used

to when their world was in my womb

safe in darkness only then

did I love them before they needed

me, and pulled at my limbs in the ownership

only then did I picture chains in

their little hands tugging at metal attached

to my limbs dislocating, tearing

pieces off I cant take another beating I need,

air damn it doesn’t anyone see I’m

bleeding on the inside from the

lashes of my own lost childhood I know not

how to give one to the children of my

own making if only they would see my bones



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