Unborn

You play with me, body.
The way a cat plays with a mouse before puncturing it's spinal cord.
You taunt me, body.
The way the homeless are taunted by mattress stores.
I am not afraid of you, but god damnit I wish I could control you.
And the blood I've bared and the hands I have let go of do not matter anymore.
You're preparing me for the worst, all while killing the best of my soul.
My happiness, my greed, my pride, my heart..
And I'll hold my belly and pray.
That some day.
I'll be ready.

Til then.
Blood.


I am not a mother.