You were borne upon the wings of the songs of your mother
You were blown by the sighs of your father's lovers
Your cousins and your brothers tried to kick, kept pulling you down
You grew up from underneath cashmere quilts, and later from underneath catholic guilt
now you long for sisters.
You like scoring just as much as any of the,
women that your father kept and tried to get to love you
you hide the scars upon your wrists and on your shoulders, like your mother did for years before beneath her favoured cuffs and collars.

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