i was ripped from my mothers womb
already building my tomb,
not sure if i was gonna survive
i left a piece of me inside
praying to a god i do not know,
i was born covered in green toxins
poisoning my mother from inside
killing her before i was alive
and now i suffer the consequence
of matricide
the mother wound,
i left something in her womb
or maybe she stole it from me
and now i fear
i will never heal.
YOU ARE READING
not so bad poetry
PoetryPart 2 of bad poetry, a new book to fill pages and pages of emptiness with ink ready to spill
