blue-eyed-baby-adara-dobson

my mother stares down at me with my eyes, but colder
i stare back up at her with her eyes, but melted
always watery, well-constructed but worse for wear
and all i can think about is how this pattern could possibly continue
how could eyes or minds become any more blue?
resounding silence solidifies exactly one fact within me
the best thing that i could ever do for my future daughter
is never be her mother.
lambs that remain unborn cannot be nurtured for slaughter.