We will never escape the pain of mothers

There's a rocking chair I pull up to the window
A purple pillow suspended on a metal frame
My mind just goes blank as I watch  
The raindrops play the leaves like a piano
My left arm hurts from where they took my blood this morning
Alive out of spite printed on my shirt over my chest
My foot proped up against the wall rocking me
I ponder past lives and the sin I could have carried over
What genetic horrors the line of mothers that created me experienced
A series of dominos that built this body like this
If you look closely their names are written in my ladders of dna
My ancestors are calling my name in whispers
Telling me every horrible thing they survived  
And my foot stills in the rocking of the chair
I am nothing but the building blocks of those before me
The mothers sins flow through the blood of their children
A sick dna form of the game telephone
Genes that helped them survive starvation
That built their brains to focus on survival
The fortitude to survive severe abuse through the ages
The way their brains were is now mine
It all comes down to ladder switches in dna
You are more likely to have ptsd if your mother has it
You are born with every egg you will ever have
Her stress hormones will fill your forming body
Reaching the potential people you could give birth to  
Before you even have the chance to exist
Their depression, their experiences, their lives in 9 months
This isnt paranoia this is science at the bare minimum
The wombs of the mothers in my family line
Created this flesh prison that I suffer in
Drugs, alcohol, poor food availability, medical abuse
Homelessness, toxic stress, physical violence
I have it all written in me, just a living history
And I will never pass it along to another
I'm the last domino in this sick game
The last receiver of the dna telephone game
Let this family history die within this body