Rebirth

It is time. I have been enwombed like a casted fist. I am long overdue, Inside the suicide when spring came through. It is nearly winter now. The people go in; I leach out. I am something nocturnal; Phasic, the darkness of a new moon. I was smothered inside my own cocoon; A flower doomed to bloom too soon. I woke up raw and markedly harsh; Fall swallowed me up like a scarlet reservoir, And I drowned To the sound Of my house burning down. Where are you now? Now that I woke up outgrown and awkward, Aborted from the happy child, Who thought that life would be worthwhile, And that winter is simply a season to come; When I never know what I’ll become.