One of You is My Mother

I was born from a gossip spittle /
My diet consists of eating trees / Flesh /
And undoing advancements /
I am a newer Medusa /
Born with the proper eyes / but I choose the former stare /
For tender strokes of madness comes from choosing /
To do the wrong thing anyway /
I was born from / Chaotic mouths /
Their heartbeat resting in the clap of their enamel /
(surely, there is not enough soap in the world to wash these bitches mouths)
We wash in the sound bath / of our names being called /
Scrapping with the blade of the wind /
There are no matriarchs here /
If there were / I wouldn’t have been born /

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