The Nothing Womb

Itís dried and stale as bread,  
maybe moldy and green.  
Certainly not a tree bearing  
ripe, tender fruit.  
A valley of angst for  
others with a sad mask of  
concern and tender  
words for stunted growth.  

It spits out debris,
oozing juice, but no flower.  
The seed is tender and ready †
to plant; yet no fertile ground  
has been found to devour †
it and make it whole.  
So barren, like wasteland †
consuming everything †
it touches with its sharp,  
gnashing teeth. †

Injected are the tools to †
repair its home, or its cell,  
with barbed wire and electric  
fence, shutting out all †
possible growth.  
Its eagerness to move, to grow,  
to become is stamped out, much †
like the crisp crackling of a †
small campfire; doused with water  
and preserved for a time when  
its use will be beneficial. †

But to what end?  

It seems there will be no harvest  
of beginningís, no way to spring life;  
as nothing will grow inside this  
desolate mockery of flesh.
Written by Eerie
Author's Note
Written in a show of solidarity for a friend who suffers greatly. I truly hear your pain...
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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