Goddamn I am weary of this womb.
I'm fat here.
I'm a pumpkin.
Ripe for the carving knife.
Lulled by lying songs
that soothe my savage
and dull my gleam.
This is not the dream I wish
to wake up in.
I am ready to be pushed out
screaming my rage
at the cold welcome
of a world bigger
and more brutal
than I will ever be.
Take this softness
and inflict the scars
I came for.
Add me
to the offering.
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