I bear a hard ball within me,
swollen with disease
and alive with pregnancy,
an alien thing
grafted onto me by another
and grown into me.
its numerous offspring surge outward
in crusty, scratchy waves,
flooding my system with infection
and attaching themselves to my being
to run my innermost workings
by remote control.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 5:11 PM UTC
I bear a hard ball within me,
swollen with disease
and alive with pregnancy,
an alien thing
grafted onto me by another
and grown into me.
its numerous offspring surge outward
in crusty, scratchy waves,
flooding my system with infection
and attaching themselves to my being
to run my innermost workings
by remote control.
Dianne is my dumb, rotten 5-years-older ex-sister who I'm not like at all and who I always had to be growing up. This is a poem about what it does to kids to never be allowed to become themselves because their families are too busy making sure they turn into someone they're not.