[IamBenT]

Broken moonlight sleeps on her careless face
Hope tucked tight with a teddy bear embraced
We share this space, with a furnace of stars,
Branding each second with permanent scars
A burdensome charge whose yoke is broken soon…
Choke the room with screams beneath a hopeless moon..

It’s close to noon, and the park is abuzz
Mothers’ hearts are in love with cherubs in the sparkling sun
Emotions roller coaster as she rolls her stroller closer
Each pace a frozen boulder, her face’s pose a folded poster
Inscrutable, dutiful, the spent beautiful of “new mom”
Sits in her usual spot, to flash the cuticles and Vuitton...

“A debutant is what THEY aren’t”, Mother’d say
Chiding and chastising my makeup covered face
Deriding my backsliding and undeveloped frame
Presiding over the hiding of my enveloped rage
Made pretty... for gritty backrooms and black forests
Greedy tattoos on arms that grab sore legs..

“You damn whore! Bet you’ll never guess what he spent, though!”
-The trickster bitches would pretend it wasn’t a rental-
And on and on, blather slathers a façade of calm
The empty pratter of the adders called “The Prada Moms”
And she BELONGED, in a bond with costs beyond the dollars,
To this “mélange” of haughty snobs accessorized with toddlers…

”Never bother father” … “Cross your legs”… “Watch your weight”
I was always slight enough to spread across your plate…
“It’s not your fate…to be, this broken thing…”
An eyeless doll, bald, with a frozen grin... I’d open sin and he’d … grope within
How could you let your baby girl cope with him?
And turn a blind eye, as the lies’ growth begins…

And as he walked up, a strut and cock-sure swagger
His stride met with a sly and obscure laughter
“Why, Hi, Honey! What a surprise visit!”
He took her aside, whispered a blithe “Yeah Hi, listen…”
Told her… the masquerade she portrayed was past played
She shouldn’t parade while their cash evaporates!...

They’ll ask away, gasp and pray, trying to find motives
Another child dead, go ahead and light votives…
One for the master, one for his dame.. One for his little girl he treated as the same…
My screams bleed, feed my husband’s… good wife I
My life, why…doesn’t have to be like… I..

Nighttime, alone, the pills and the vanity..
I see lines, thin quills under canopies,
Where dull orbs rest beneath a creasing horizon
Our daughter walks in… I see, when her eyes wince
The tiny little twinkle of her Grandad’s snicker..
After vittles sprinkled with a bit o’ mad-dash liquor...

I…. Ayyyyy…. I should have killed the little bitch quicker.