wrenched from a barren womb
s c r e a m i n g o u t
hoping some kind ears will hear.
it is too late.
it is always t o o l a t e .
behind supposed memory
we suppose we are
the masters of our fate.
remember your childhood beliefs?
we believed so many things.
stripped away one at a time
over time we come closer to
finding who or what we are.
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