Editor's ChoiceMusingsPoetry

Sharp, Sharp Muse!

Like the first rains in March cleans the rooftops off its dirt; she took my first dirt-my innocence.

Like all first loves, she opened the creaky door to the world, for me to take a tiny peek.

I did take a peek. But I wanted more than just that afterwards.

I wanted more of what I was served sparingly.

My appetite grew with the moments.
Even one girl couldn’t satisfy my hunger.

I became a mouth, always looking for something to swallow.

I was sexually abused by my mom at five.

She put my tool to work on a warm Wednesday night.

I lost my life to the one who gave me life.

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