These lines in my eyes were drawn on my own.
I've abused, misused, and grown old with time.
Taken refuge in the arms of ill remedy.
I have conquered myself by a spun etiquette.
God blesses despite ourselves.
My head is in your hands.
Child bearing. Risks taken.
Mother, how clear can it be?
It cuts like glass, but feels so much better.
This is my ill remedy.
God blesses despite ourselves.
My head is in your heads.
I am in awe of myself. Nothing, but the consequence.
These women struggle as I do. Knit together as social fabric.
Who am I? Taken. Break the body. Mold me into new form.