Motherhood, Lost

The Profane...

Motherhood, Lost

She sits
in such a loathsome state;
She spits
on those she procreates.
She dares
to justify her whims;
despairs,
when plans turn ever grim...

She’s sought
to live a leech’s life;
distraught
as both a mom and wife.
She shames
with condescending tones;
she blames
the world while casting stones.

She lives
within her clouded tomb;
she gives
no caring from her womb.
She cries,
“Not fair!” as shams beset.
Her lies -
they are a vicious threat.

She speaks
with a divided tongue;
she reeks
with nasty things she’s done.
Her days
consist of pill-caused pain;
her ways
have made her quite insane.

Her brood –
they live with ethics, tossed;
thus, skewed
on life – with morals, lost.
And so
the cycle carries on –
She sows
her seeds… from dusk to dawn.