Cruelest Month
Being born
was like falling
into a warm bed
and then Time
began ripping away
a blanket
once a year
to celebrate my birth
and I curl
back into a fetal position
colder
colder
cold as my grave
Being born
was like falling
into a warm bed
and then Time
began ripping away
a blanket
once a year
to celebrate my birth
and I curl
back into a fetal position
colder
colder
cold as my grave
April 4, 2016
Inspired by NaPoWriMo2016's Day 4 prompt: write a poem about what you think is the cruelest month.
Image of unknown origin, used without permission, with no credit taken, no profit made, and no offense intended.
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