The Hunger

My mother she ate me,
my mother she left me.
She gave me complexes and stresses,
ribbons and dresses.
Some of my favorite things.
I’ve got neurons overflowing with guilt,
electrons drowning in fear
I’ve got a closetful of hand-me-downs
and a bank account with hard-earned money
to afford to live in my own childhood home.
“But it’s not really rent, sweetie, no baby it’s not.”
It’s gas and food money.
Because we had you, we loved you,
We housed you, we hugged you.
But then you got taller
You went out into the world,
Let its influences cut open your wrists
unform your ribs
alter your hair.
Your altars are supposed to be here.
We had you exactly where we needed you,
So why’d you have to let the world unravel all our hard work?
You were the next generation,
Our hopes and our dreams,
The magic and hard work of our dripping loins,
We needed you here,
We needed you bad baby
So why’d you have to create a world of your own?
Shutting us out
Building your towers
We hate you baby we hate you
We love you baby we adore you.
But your ribs drip opinions
Your lips drip venomous words,
Why did you have to go on changing?
We gave you a heart and blood
Two legs and some memories
So why’d you have to go and get a smoking gun?
Shoot ourselves in the head,
And wake up in stranger’s beds?

Photo Credit: miahalf0 Flickr via Compfight cc


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