Ribcage

 I believed my mother was the most beautiful thing in the room

when I first opened my eyes to see the halo of her in my vision

and as I grew older

Fascinated at the tone of her voice

the way her voice lulled me to sleep and woke me from the darkness

I wondered when I too would match her tones

But as I grew older her voice no longer brought me the arduous joy

It instead made me tremble and flee

For her voice no longer lulled me to sleep 

but it roused the demons within

Her words grew thorns of their own

and embedded themselves within my skin

amongst all the rose petals that now withered within the darkness

her words proved my existence was a sin

I know not why this happened

how a person so full of wrath reared from love

I just wish I could tell the child under the blows of a rage-drunk mother

that it was not her fault to choose herself above her