I feel like the mother of a murderer,
Face hidden beneath the black veil of shame,
I know Ive done nothing wrong,
But Im always looking for someone to blame.

I feel Ive the body of a possessed one,
Like Ill never be happy again,
I just have this melancholy to eat away at my heart,
And Ill always feel the same.

I feel as if I opened an ancient mummys tomb,
And so I have fallen victim to the curse,
Nothing should work or ever go right,
Thus into vain I will immerse.

I feel like life is a black comedy musical,
Every line and move is rehearsed,
But Im not wanted when it comes to the curtain call,
Im only here to assist the last verse.

I feel like a child torn away from my mother,
Far away from her embrace when just a foal,
And I plunder and cry with unseen worthless pleas,
Black on my lungs and fires in my soul.

I feel like a pigeon whose partner was killed,
My feathers are eroded like a coast,
My tears fall down but are disguised in this rain,
And the hunters roam ever close.

I feel like a character in a story,
But somewhere in the plot is something I missed,
Im only half-thought-out and hardly cared for at all,
Crucified then screwed up in my fist.

I feel like Im reading the chapters of life,
Im reading parts out and Im learning from chapters been and gone,
I am the author even though the book owns me,
Sometimes I feel Im on chapter one hundred when other times Im on one.

I feel like Ive fallen in love with the devil,
So much so writing his name seems a sin,
Any minute now theyll be knocking on my door,
And taking me away to be pricked with a pin.

I feel like I have nothing left to play,
And I feel like Im playing an eternal game of cards,
But my every solemn picture is black not red,
I am the keeper of the suit of hearts.

I feel I am just a soldier whose valour was not regarded,
Standing in the shadows behind those intrepid and bold,
Fighting fits of suppressed envy and rage,
In armour that once shone true in my hold.

It is this something inside I will mother,
This something or just this nothing,
And it will take some time for me to discover,
The origin of this suffering,
My sacred desire to plague this on another,
I am the mother of a murderer.

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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