Defective Woman

I have a confession to make.

No, I am not a killer, psychopath

Or have some sort of weird sexual fetish

I have a real deep confession, and I need

Someone to talk to.

Get to it? Ok, Ok I am, but this Is not easy for me.

My confess….My confession is that

My vagina is broken

Yeah, you heard me right

I said my vagina is broken

What do I mean broken?

Damaged, Fractured, Altered,

Not working properly, shattered

Pulverized, dismembered, defective

I mean this bitch doesn’t work!

The one thing in life that

I’ve always wanted to be was a mother,

And my broken vagina

Has made damn sure

That dream never comes true.

I feel as if I am defective woman.

What is my purpose in life;

If I can’t procreate?

When I found out for sure that I couldn’t

Have kids, my boyfriend left me.

Yes, I said boyfriend because no

Real man would have left me in my

Deepest and darkest moment.

I am a defective woman & who the

Hell goes to a furniture store and requests

The defective bed or couch? Who wants something

That they know is imperfect?

I often wonder, who will ever love me,

Want me, or make me their wife ,

When I can’t even have children?

I will never know the feeling of life inside of me…

I will never take a pregnancy test and it says YES…

I will never know what my mini me could look like,

Sound like or how they will act.

I have been deprived of that…

Why, because I am a defective woman.

The disease that took motherhood away from me

Continues to attack my body…

And I try not to let it affect my mind and soul….

But it’s hard…

Life goes on….

I guess I can always adopt a child…

However, those aren’t the thoughts

That consume me or remain in my spirit.

I will always feel like a defective woman.

So when you see me,

Please don’t ask me why

I don’t have children or when

I plan to start a family….

Because it is insensitive…

But if you ask me…

I will stand tall, and look you

In your eyes and tell you….

I don’t have children because I am a defective woman.