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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 26, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 26, 2017



I came unto this world

a screeching, whining ball of purple

With a hand still holding tight to Heaven

And a curse already in my veins

Mama could never grow to love

what she knew was never hers

the grimy flat encircled me

A wallflower, that could never stretch 

up those walls, my face to the sun

And feel the fresh air wipe me clean

I wandered, lonely as a cloud

And discovered

The world was a few miles or two

Bigger than the mouldy walls that strangled the air

I found myself in all that hurt

Made orifices bleed and the hole grow and swallow me up

Felt so good, and so sharp and so real

After being so numb for so long

I rocked on the spit covered floor and I howled

For a childhood lost and a life not worth living

And I cursed my mother

Who had a hole where her heart was torn out

And just couldn't love me quite enough

I was invisable but glad; I could never expand out to the light

My eyes would be scorched, I retreat to my hole gladly

Like a thing of the sewers, 

And be glad!

That they embraced me


The whore, the wasted, the blasphemer and the demon.


© Copyright 2018 Elena Covaci. All rights reserved.

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