Dream Dumpster

Mother Tribe, take me in.
For I am a child of the Land of Nod.
Abandoned like an orphan,
I have been banished to wander at the price of another’s sin.
Praying for someone, something to wash this blood from my hands.

Mother Tribe, take me in.
For this wandering has been long,
And I yearn for a place to rest my weary head.
A place to let go of old myths and begin anew.

But Mother Tribe does not understand.
All she see are her children.
Her once lost, but newly found children,
Covered in the sin of another

“Come my Littles,”
She does say,
“Come and I will do, as a good mother does,
And wash and scrub this burden from your soul.
For children were not made to wear the sins of their maker.”

Mother Tribe, take me in.
Where I once was a child of the Land of Nod.
You graced me pure of the burdens of my creator.
Just as a good mother does.