40% of you will never be her

40% of you will try to find her 

And 20% of your life will center him

You the intended unintended of pollination 

Tanken out of the talons of birds and bees 

You are like a little patch of weeds 

A beautiful ecosystem she created

he is also your creator, via consumption 

you sprouted safely beneath her trees

and just as your roots detached, and you grew knees

his pet hawk swooped in 

Now you have stretched scratches

His cabbage patches 

He employed for your forced gluttony

That never truly caught on  

The last thing wild 

That could consume her 

And destroy the garden

Go ahead 

Kill your mother

she would rather die by your hands