Born

I was born
Dreary, dark,
Downhearted
And blue.

A tiny scent
Of safety
Left withering
In the womb.

She was sick
And statuesque.
One single tear
lying like a scar

Upon her cheek.
Her holy eyes
Red, black,
Wounded and weak.

And I was not there,
I lay like a pillow,
My whispering breath
And my weeping heart.

I cried
She screamed
“Dear God,
Let me sleep.”