Ainsley Dew

Ainsley Dew

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Mother

She is my clay

Free for me to mold to whatever I wish.

I deserve to.

I made her.

I am her creator.

And I am the person she’s afraid to become.


Her tears are my opportunity.

Her yawns are open doors of manipulation.

Let me mold you daughter.

Let me make you into who I wanted to be.

Let me make you perfect.


You say I don’t know you.

But I’m the one who you are the most like.

Do you assume I don’t ...