Do not claim to despise me,

I’m your creation.

You molded me with precision and care.

Every crack and flaw formed with delicate hatred



Do not claim that you know me not,

I’m yours inside and out

Make no mistake,

Gestated in the embrace of your long practiced apathy.



Do not claim to fear me,

For in me lies your blackness

Your venom, your vitriol.

Bequeathed with loving seething rage.



You called the steps, you wrote the tune

So do not weep when I perform to perfection

The lurid, grotesque dance macabre

Engraved upon my heart with your blood



You have no cause to grieve,

You’ve lost nothing.

Revel in your triumph

Rejoice in your success.

You have done well.

Mother.