The Passage of My Birth

Inch past spiteful inch I crawl my way out of this hole. Whilst this screech columned cylinder connected to my soul sustains a silent scream, residing incandescent in my chest. And fledgling veins support my effort for early release. Flexible nails sit upon freshly formed fingers, each numb with the ache of force and trying. And though I have toiled an age, I am still beginning. I must remain centric. Of one world and one importance. Singular. Or this tomb will be my elegie. A damned soul offered no act of contrition. This womb. This suffocating wet, assails the skin about my strengthening heart. And burned eyes with ripped sight guide my way passed the asphyxiating roots of fear clawing at me. Restraining me. Molasses to my conviction. Dismissed compassion gouging and scratching at my clenched mouth. With only travails and constant effort knowing I take this journey alone. Nourished shafts of light, encircling the very darkness that envelops me, stream toward my upturned crown. Like blades of white hot stilettos carrying messages from my future And, my universe pushed before me, finally breaches this foul hole. Releasing mitigated screams of outrage and indignity at the defiled act carried out against me. I strived for salvation but instead was born