i stumbled away from her so weary
knowing this birth was mischance clearly
a liason of old shadows nearly
bore me straight to sin
blood caked my arms, my breasts, my face
yet i could not halt the frantic pace
heading south from the evil place
that place where it begins
but how far, how fast can a newborn go
leaving tiny tracks in emerald snow
from birth to death the path is slow
mere existence is my sin
1 comment:
I so enjoy these harsh observations. They're softly delivered and softly remembered.
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