She strolls around the creation
caressing her makings with a thin finger
hoping that every living thing that dwells on them knows they are loved
alas, the kids still scream
the girls still starve
the boys still cry in the locked bathroom stalls
the blades still run across the skin turning it to a crimson red
how terrible she must feel
seeing all her little children hurting
and yet she is the one who created the things that haunt their heads at night
she tells them it will be fine
she cradles them in her arms
but they still die
they still end up falling down the rabbit hole
but one day she will have no more children
she will be alone in her creations
and then she shall birth another
this time making sure they love
themselves and each other
