Birth Is a Tomb
Leaping through hoops of fire looking for relief
Brearh sagging to the lowest depths where my
eyes can no longer see into the flesh but
begin the violent journey into catacomb halls
where ghosts stamp my brow with cold kisses
in self fullfilling ruins-no light exists exists here
except the lights we give off in our own bodies
in our own tombs already since birth
This home where we come to live so one day
we may prepare to die
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