To The Void of My Birth

-To The Void of My Birth-
by Keaton Foster


She
That being
Gone
No longer
Never again
Alive
Dead
Deceased
Encased
An unmarked tomb
A pseudo sematic
Dormant womb
I know where it is
I’ve been there
Just once
Never will life
Of any kind
Rise or fall
Her presence
None extant
She is, was
Sort of pointless
I’m her son
But me
Never
Did she love
I was a mistake
A hell of a thing
Living all of life
Not meant to be
And knowing it
As absolute truth
A burdensome weight
I’ve been fighting to express
I, a master of inflection
The king of all dereliction
Taken what was given
And wasting it
Thus here I am
Sort of pointless
A bullet to the brain
A slice of the blade
Either of them
Not a true escape
Implementation
To further be delayed
In due time
Before God I’ll come to stand
He’ll repeat what she said
Upon that day
The one of my transcendence
He’ll show no pity
Not an ounce of mercy
Forgiveness
To him what’s that
I’m here to now say
That a form of hatred
Lives in his gut
Stews in his rut
Deeper below
Than anything known
Then the brief times shown
There are only but a few
Of us, humans that is
That he feels so strong about
And I’m sure that I am one
Maybe I’m wrong
Then again
Maybe I’m not
Back
To the void of my birth
As if I never began
Feeble and weak
Unable to survive
Dependent upon her spine
Or lack thereof
Suckling upon the teat
For sustenance
When clearly the well
Has been poisoned
By whom
Does that even matter
I’ll die a million deaths
Purgatory
For those so damned
A sentence bestowed
Before life
During living
After the proceeding
All of it means nothing
And everything
Wrapped into one package
One finite inference
A timeless aberration
That will go on and on
My fall from grace
Where there was none
It will be sharp and steep
Once
I was ripped from home
Cut from her flesh
Taken in jest
Placed upon her chest
They told her
Hug this
She was quick to refuse
That’s not mine
What I mean to say is
That I don’t want it
Take it away
Lock it in a cage
Give it to strangers
Demented incapables
Willing to accept anything
Inform them
To adequately abuse
Let them raise it
And thus be obligated to it
I want nothing of this child
His flesh, not my own
His blood, stagnant
His everything
Quintessentially
Non existent
He comes from evil
A byproduct of rape
Even if I was willing
I just don’t want him
Those words, harsh
Such a truth, jagged
I know and understand it
Back
To the void of my birth
I must again go
Upon my demise
I’ll suffer for this life
So be it
I’m well prepared
I can take most things
Living has prepared me
I am simply not afraid
Nor am I concerned
I’ll do what it takes
Little will change
My mother via birth
Was of course the one
Who taught me that…


To The Void of My Birth
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2014.