There are those of us, who don't belong, who God cant save, who can't be helped in any way |
-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. |