Pills under my pretty tongue,
that never had a wrong word on it.
I promise,
I’ll be a lovely living doll.
Mama,
will I always be a beautiful girl?
Will you always dress me with the list,
condition couture,
downloaded while I slept?
Could you tell me what’s wrong with me today?
Tell me why I can’t be like the girls I see?
Tell me why I can’t explore summer skies,
Coca Cola nights?
Why am I,
tethered to the bed we share,
by a feeding tube,
and a list of conditional couture,
downloaded while I slept,
slipped into my life,
until my life,
is just your medical mood board,
and I am just your lovely living doll,
who never learned to live?
Mama,
will I always be a beautiful girl?
RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Drowning In Us
What Ever Happened To Baby Jen?
Notes To My Muse
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Sincerely, Jennifer x 