I am aborted every second months.
Killed all my efforts to become...
Aborted in a bloody, painful bath:
And all of me was scraped,
one part by one -
The dwelling,
the sacred one I love,
the safe one, safest of all dwellings
was left with nothing,
empty.
Now it's clean
and ready to receive me,
to conceive again.
And ready to receive the pleasure of reception,
such
an
abundance
of
it
that
an act of
the protection
seems stupid and ridicules.
That even
a thought
of
me
being scraped,
removed from the sacred dwelling
have not been raised to conscience,
have not been born at all.
This pleasure is my only hope for the world.