Deep within the prison of my soul there was a baby factory. The baby factory was surrounded by the strongest steel. It was a dream that was guarded at all times. No one went into the factory and no one came out for thirty six long years. The baby factor lay dormant- waiting wondering - would there ever be activity or would the doors stay closed forever.
I would tell people about the baby factory. Many of them would laugh. Who would want a junkie slut for a mother? Who would ever want me? I started to believe those things to be true. The plants covered the barbed wire. Ivy grew across like tracks on an arm or a leg.
At thirty five, the heat got turned up in the factory. I began to sweat in anticipation. I had found love. I had found life. It was time. The switch was turned on. I manufactured three beautiful children. I crafted them with love and care. They received the best parts of myself. I am an artisan. I am their mother. I risked my life for these children. I let them cut me open three times in five years. My final scar a testament to a dream that would not die, a place in my heart that could not be taken sold or slaughtered. The baby factory.
The baby factory is closed now. I cut the fence, cut the ropes, let the land rest. It has produced joys beyond an addicts dreaming. We can hold still.