I wasn't born, I was evicted from my mother's womb.
Thrown onto a hollowed out chest, the first sound my empty ears heard was the rustling of air flowing through a heart.
It knocked the wind right out of me.
Some mothers, they look at you as if your face was a reminder of the pain they felt the night they had you.
I was a silent baby, early aware that teeth,not tears,would get me through this life.
YOU ARE READING
Purple blush
Poetry''Everything you did to me, I remember. Mama, I made it out of your home alive, raised by the voices in my head. '' -Warsan Shire, Extreme girlhood
