Angel

I've always felt there was something

terribly wrong with me.

 I almost died while my mother was in labor.

Apparently, her umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck

and I was choking every time she pushed.

Even then, I knew I didn't want to be
born into this shithole.

It was a difficult birth.

I've had a difficult life.

I tried to be good

but there's just this darkness inside of me

It keeps trying to get out.

There is something wrong with me.

There is rot and stench underneath this doll-mask I wear.

I've always felt like an abomination

like my womb is a catacomb

and my words are venom.

  

I want to be good

but I think I am the anti-Christ.

I shed no tear when they buried my brother.

In fact, I think I was relieved.

Somehow, I felt free.

 

There must be something wrong with me.

I wanted my mom to shut up

when she was crying her heart out.

My hands itched and itched

and I wanted to fling the nearest

object to their faces.

Instead I approached his coffin

made the sign of the cross

and muttered "Good riddance".

 8/10/2013


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*Poetry written by blog author and protected by Copyright, you may not use this without permission.

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