Gypsy Rose

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?

gypsy rose blanchard

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?


Sign the petition here.


Read My Books

Hear My Music

RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
Drowning In Us
What Ever Happened To Baby Jen?
Notes To My Muse

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