to find another turned away desecrates the futures made where mothers blessed before it was begun was meant to be. inside was made a pointed view of choices that were meant for few spreading colors that would never be seen poured to scour blur the bleating.
discarding what’s been hiding in every moment that was preceding here we are in the vacuum pulled into the echoes of a mother’s breathing one more chance on our knees and pleading fastening our hopes, conceding, slapping our souls enslaved in the place of our breeding witnessing our lives in the hopes of misleading damning our bones to the poles of our dreaming.
our hopes will survive.
