deepundergroundpoetry.com

Birth of a mother

My womb is not a temple I let you enter , to piss on the walls.

My mother hood is not a bag that you throw at me , saying here , handle all my mother's years of hard work.

My labour is not a doorstep , that you wipe your feet.

My mask is not yours to rip apart and demand art.

My womb is a temple of love , I invite you to paint these walls bright.

My motherhood is years of learning , an learning yet to come.

My labour is sacrifice , every single time.

My mask is my beauty , when hiding so much pain.
Written by shannonJane (Lost poet - Day dreamer)
Published
Author's Note
Growing up
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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