Truth About Poetry. (Ongoing)

Renaissance

Right before the first time i died, i got the glimpse of the first time i was born. I was innocent and knew nothing of the world.

The second time i died, i briefly remembered how sad it was for me to come back to this world again. My birth mother at that tine was excited. She would cuddle and spoil me, much more than the first mother did. But she didn't shield me from evil. The darkness was scarred into my brain and i was so scared to close my eyes because each time darkness took over, i really saw it for what it truly was. I was able to escape.

The third time i was born, i cursed up a storm. I knew this time, i was here for longer. My birth mother this time around didn't bother to keep me. So i ended up in a filthy place in which i learned his name.  It was the only thing i heard till i was able to escape.

When the fourth time came around i wasn't even suprised. My birth mother took me too all sorts of unsual places in hopes to make me laugh. "Babies always laugh," she argued "Why not mine?" i longed so much to console her and tell her it wasn't her fault. When he found me, he wasn't very happy with me. He didn't like the fact that I'd run away from him the last time. He punished me for it.

The fifth time i died, i was still in my mother's womb. I drowned in my own fear and absolutely refused to come out. Not again.

The sixth time around i was born sick. I lived half of my new life in hospitals. I wanted to love it. I mean it was indeed the place i that was meant to get help. To heal. I ended up hating it because not even the finest doctors could erase such horror from my memories so i had to relive them every night as i fell asleep.
He came looking for me but found my mother instead. He took her to spite me
And i felt hate.

The seventh time i died i took him with me.

I wrote this.