My creativity
comes in
a direct flow
from my mother.
Her blood feeds
my body with
oxygen to breathe
and her words,
like breadth for my ears.
An umbilical cord once
attached us
before I was
strong enough
to be my own.
Now our
thoughts and
hearts
align
because I am borrowed
from her clay.
It seems that we are
always attached to
the other end of
our life support.
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