Well, there you sit, in your
neon-white living room, with
a belly full of expectations
Your face a mask, your eyes
are grey - is this really what
you wanted?
Was it worth all the fighting,
was it worth all the pain?
Is this really the way to
buy security or satisfaction
or is it just another
thoughtless action?

And there you sit, in your
cold-pale living room and
how long before you sell
your motherhood to this
frozen neon-world?
How long before you
break the string? Is this
really what you wanted
to buy?

So there you sit, with your
arms stretched out and
no-one there to hold you
and will those arms be able
to hold this child?
Will your breast feed it, will
it grow in what's left
of your warmth?
Will it ever have someone
to call mother?

And then, when this child of
your body is born, how long
will it take before you give
birth to the child of your
mind?