Bitches Brew

Her mind is confused.
Her thoughts bubble up from unconscious literature,
written in dreams.
Her ideals, a compilation of
conflicting truths.
Her heart pumps red,
squeezing drops through
the constricting black membrane
of rage.

She drinks from the well of insanity,
smiling to hide the riddle inside.
She remembers,
a movie made for one.
She is guided by the reflection of wishes,
made in haste
from users.
She is terminally heartbroken.

I feel sick, a storm is gathering inside, with
winds that stir a tsunami of bile and shame.
I analyze my regrets until they are thread bare,
hoping that they will disintegrate.
I am not who they want me to be.
I run,
looking back.

We became a product of our environment.
We will always be alone,
tormented with blame.
We are daughter, sister, mother, wife.
We never had a chance.

Me, myself and I,
stillborn.

Photo Credit: origami joel Flickr via Compfight cc