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Mother
My pearl eyes stare at the sky.
Don't want to live.
Don't want to die.
I'm not so much a statue,
as a piece of rotten fruit.
The sky is dead, like David.
His brother wears a white suit.
Help me for I'm drowning
in the air of a normal day.
My hair is weeping softly.
My soul is going grey.
No-life guard can save me.
No-breezes flow today.
No-skin is heatless coldless clay,
cracked, with tunes to tell.
Help me, for I'm drowning,
although I see the shore.
A silent statue drowning
alone inside a shell.
David smiles and giggles
from beyond his tiny grave,
where I put his fragile corpse
because I lacked the will to care
for a child with Down's.
So I drown.
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