
1. On DiagnosisWaiting room seats1. On Diagnosis by =Annimouse
filled with decaying masks
and health ebbing away.
My stick of battered memories
of running for the on-time bus
that held my Guns 'n' Roses listening memories.
I wait for my name to come up in lights.
The only time that it ever will.
5 minutes seems like an eternity
when waiting for the LED flash of disaster.
Suddenly my name appears and I am
waiting room famous for a mere few seconds.
I dawdle to the four walls that
may uphold or crumble my life.
A dawdle is akin to a run for me
on a good day.
Upon entering, the doctor greets me
with a nod and a nervous look in her eye
I wait for the news-
my diagnosis of atrophy.
Like

9 MonthsFor 9 months I carried you9 Months by =Annimouse
I watched stretchmarks invade my flawless skin
Like aeroplane trails in the sky
I watched my stomach ever grow
Like a beautiful rose emerging from nowhere roots
Breathing normally became ambitious
And sleeping became a distant memory
As you kicked your tiny feet against your temporary home
To inadvertently let me know
Your cravings once again
9 months went and came far too quickly
Like day turns to night without a thought
And the highs and lows of pregnancy
Once again surfaced themselves
Just before you screamed your way into the world
A nervous wreck at the thought of being a mother
Was I going to be good enoug
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