There was very little difference between her fist and her womb while I announced my arrival into this world.
Sailing over to life's preceding phase, I felt it slightly clenched, driving away follies flies hovering the naivety of my mind's wound.
Several miles away from the crossroad of adulthood, I felt her fist reinforced with pre-cast steel. Dishing me many blows, I couldn't accept the fact that she was my biological mother...
So many years have gone by, keeping us great distant apart...
'get the blankets off over you...'
'It’s getting late, go home...'
'Go back and apologize...'
'I think you're crossing over the edge...'
Yet; I feel momma's fist even harder on me, MY WILL.
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