I came into the world early
spitting, screaming, clinging
already growing hair from
a blush colored birthmark on my scalp

my hair grows and I do too.
Outside I scrape my knee and
**** the blood from it, hoping
that will take the hurt away

I find the hurt years later
in front of a bar where a
handsome demon is offering
a whiskey, promising beauty and goodness

if I only drink his blood. Wait.
I've been here before. This is
my mother's dream. She drops
her spatula at the stove

when I tell her of it
in waking hours. Did you drink
it this time? Did you drink it?
She begs.

Yes mother - I drank his blood
then I came here and
went to bed.