Everything is circles.
The sun, the moon, a mother’s belly full with child.

A tear, visibly mended;
but still not whole. 

“I wanted to keep you” she said through her tears.

Discarded textiles.
Not good enough.
Thrown away. 
Ripped apart. 

You don’t know how lucky you are/we chose you/we’re not related by blood/we never would have done this if we knew we could have our own child

Something called “tough love”
Locks changed.
On the streets as a teen.

Discarded.
Not good enough.
Thrown away. 
Ripped apart.

“I wanted to keep you” she said through her tears.