Daughters of Disappointment

daughters-of-disappointment

"Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it."

Our mother would be disappointed in us, if she knew that we have killed our inner child. We are grown women now. Instead of toys we play with boys. She'd be disappointed with the people we have become today, to find our place in this world. We will cry "We had no choice." Mother taught us to love and be kind. To be gentle and perfect. But the world taught us "Be anything but yourself."

Our mother would be disappointed in us, if she knew that the soft strands of hair she brushed with love gets twisted and pulled on with lust. The sweet mouth that said grace with her before meals is now a vortex that sprouts lies, it dines on flesh. It is a portal that sucks the soul out of men. All in the name of pleasure. Mother, they praise us for our skilled tongues; become undone for our moans. They leave satisfied.

Our mother would be disappointed in us, if she knew that our little fingers that knitted her sweaters have grown in to long slender fingers that knit ropes for our demise. The soft palms she once kissed have blood on them now. Our bodies are no longer temples. The sanctuary between our legs we were taught to keep safe from outsiders is now a welcoming home of false prophets. It is a pit of remains of all those that swore to stay. We traded our purity in the naivety of finding connection. We sold our innocence for a moment we hoped it'd stay for eternity. Mother, our youth has died.

Our mother would be disappointed in us, if she knew that we are hedonists now. We no longer say our prayers and our God has forsaken us. We have no Peace among us. We hate our siblings.

Driving blindly in to madness; an escapade to feel alive. We have long forgotten how to sleep. Your bed time stories and lullabies along with it. We have forgotten the concept of home and who we once were. We are daughters of the damned. We belong to the world.

We stand tall. Mother be proud we don't slouch. We have mastered poise. Our walk is charismatic. Our features picturesque.

Our mother would be disappointed in us, if she knew that  we are now orphans. Conceited beauties with shallow hearts. Divine goddesses.

Mother look at your perfect offsprings.

Your daughters with soulless pretty eyes.

Now, dare to love us all the same, with a love that's profound and unconditional.

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