Coming into being,
In the tomb of my mother’s womb;
Where life begins and ends.
Born only to be worn as an appendage,
Bended and extended on the outside,
A tumor benign.
She tries keeping me locked in,
A well-kept secret.
Covers me with painted rocks,
Determined to hide the pain,
Two lives stained.
Choked by the umbilical cord of her desire for perfection,
Her natural reaction,
Faceted me like a world class attraction;
All for her satisfaction,
And the cost,
A mere fraction of a life.
She paints on her disguise.
The doorbell rings…
Let the games begin!
As she pretends to be perfect and wise.
It was all a lie!
No-one heard my cries.
In the tomb of my mother’s womb,
Is where my life begins and ends.
Risen out of the swell,
To be birthed into hell.
A place that I’ve grown to know all too well.