Rotten


The seed of my womb his father killed me calmly
laid me in my casket and paid for my tomb icy heart
I skated on damaged peeling the scab from the
wound never healing dealing, sniffing, consuming
death know it will come soon forced his infections
within swimming and thrilled by the blood that
seeped from me caught by saved by a moment of
tragedy restless sleep the thoughts of his expressions
talking to himself or who I could not see
drowned out the pain with supplements of
nature confused by the stigma of a high
I believe I had escaped with my seed led him through
the trail on to the ledge pushed him to save him
ran far to save myself yet my spirit left with him
never can I trust another love as I trusted he
who forced me to lay in my own blood
generational curse because I hurt
still holding my seed on my back trying
to protect him from what is targeting me
from behind struck him every time I turned around
he made me stronger the seed of my womb
carried me along as if I was born through him
submission and patient to see where I’m led
“my abusers elevated me!” he said
To be continued…

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