What Was Woven From My Breast Could Never Capture You

What was woven from my breast could never capture you

Oh, but I was drunken in your sight- a fool stumbling, falling to my knees

Prejudice, prejudice, sweet-what once fed me will feed again

Oh, but prejudice, prejudice, sweet-never gave enough to me

Its syrupy tenderness disguised itself to me

It's enough

It's enough

I am my mother in the ground

I am my mother in the womb

It's enough

It's enough

I am what was in the dust

I am what was on a shield

I am what was buried deep beneath you

I am what a sky always held

And what these stars could never tell

I am a fool, drunken in your sight- stumbling, falling to my knees

What was woven from my breast could never capture you

Yeah, I do title cop-outs like the Greeks. Neoclassicism, baby.

-M