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.
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