bedtime story

once upon a time
my mother worried
and worried
and worried and
worried

she felt guilty
she was seventeen
he lied and
now her father stopped speaking

the guilt and worry
the anger the fear confusion
the lost-ness knotted together

it grew and grew
and then
watered by wondering
waiting and
a bit of hope,

the ball fell out of her womb
and became me.

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