Blood, Screams and Wild Woods

A mother? No.
I haven’t had one
of those in years.

I birthed myself real
out of the belly of a beast
who dined on loved flesh
and snacked on lies.

Of course, I remember
the day. I was born of blood,
screams and wild woods.
I was eleven and a moon
and wholly crimsoned.

There used to be a mother,
once upon a time. It’s true.
But she was eaten, bit by bit,
by ravenous plot monsters
that haunt ever afters.

Yes, my grandmother still lives
in me, written inside my skull,
bewaring me of lies and wolves.

.
written for Beyond the Ever After – Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month, 2016 (Day 11)
and
linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform

Red, by C. Madison-Peters“Red”, by C. Madison-Peters
(find more of her yummy work on her website and on Instagram)