Look down.
I'm taking a drink tonight {just like every night}
One sip for me one sip for you
My little one
Do you feel the buzz yet, poppet?
Is your heart beating faster like mine is?
Let's have another glass//shot//bottle,
Maybe that will make things better.
Make things better for you, darling,
That’s all I want
That's why I'm sending you away
Pulling you out of me, where you should be
(Don't worry,
I won't look at you when they put you in the trashcan)
The savior-trashcan rescuing you from
The downs syndrome that might have been
[excuse me while I take a hit]
The retardation that might have been
[excuse me while I do a line]
The angry disposition that might have been
[excuse me while I take him in]
Oh, my little cabbage,
Either thou, or I, or both must go
See, looky there, we have a little
Shakespearean tale of our own
Isn’t that nice?
Either thou, or I, or both must go
And no, I am not ready
As much as I crave the sound of
the flatline,
I have no craving for MINE right now.
So drink, drink up and hold it in, little poppet
Drink from the poison of my blood
Drink up
Enjoy, darling little one.
Look up.
“Forgive her,
She knows not what she does,”
Cries the Martyr in defense of the Being that
Mangled, tortured, raped her of
Everything.
“She Knows Not what she has done.”