Unravelled
I miscarry a lust for life
a passion for the unknown
a will to experience and observe the most sublime and horrid of things
I miscarry another world
I cannot give birth to in this prison I was locked up in.
I miscarry a pain for the human
difficult to bear, hard to confess
the pain of a child born in poverty
the pain of a man working overnight
the pain of a woman blocked inside her routine.
I miscarry the most delicate of pains
I cannot give birth to because they sound so absurd.
I miscarry a ravishing artist
all outraged and covered in blood and feathers
that pours herself on a blank piece of paper
trying to translate complicated and alluring thoughts
into heartfelt and pointless words
I miscarry an infected sensivity
I cannot give birth to in a atrocious reality.
poem by Eva Grotesque
Added by Poetry Lover
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