Cradle of Life

Cradle of Life

Anon

a588f7ce967295fd6625313d79c2d5c2--grey-art-black-art.jpg

 

Your mothers back breaks, just as her mothers and her mother's before. The alchemists, as they believe they spun fine gold out of their pain. Women, cradles of life. Wombs fruitful with scars and scratches from constant kicking and movement, her most prized possession. She beams with pseudo happiness, looking at you during the ultrasound.

He broke her back, but she loves you.

You sit in English class, beside the prettiest girl in the class. You like the sound of her name, Kiana. You roll it slowly off your tongue every time you speak to her. You find the courage to ask her out to see a movie and at the end of the date, you ask her for a kiss and she says no. You coercively pin her against the wall and kiss her.

You broke her back, but your mother still loves you.

Yourself and a couple of friends, underage, drink before a party, proclaiming who will "get lucky tonight" and your adrenaline surges. You arrive at the party, inebriated. You spot Natasha from across the room and pull her over. You convince her to go outside for a smoke and she obliges. You throw your cigarette on the ground and advance towards her. She pushes you away but her strength doesn't match her. You leave her on the concrete sobbing and shaking.

You broke her back, but your mother still loves you.

You are in your porcelain house, filled with expensive trinkets and the finest drapes. But your most prized possession is your daughter. You watch her and her date take pictures for prom. She looks beautiful, as she smiles and giggles. Her mother urges her to smile wider and you send her off with a kiss and hug. You fall asleep before she is back and you wake up in the morning to find her not back yet. Your wife calls you in a fit to hurry to the hospital.

She proclaims someone has broken your daughter's back, but your mother still loves you.

 

 

Life Without A Father

Life Without A Father

Freedom Come

Freedom Come

0