i cant give up my heat to what i really need arent i just like my mother? clumsily birthed a child, again, and another, tearing a *** hole, bleeding lifetimes, swallowing salt with a mouth like wound. i wish i never hurt i an apple tree blossomed carrying entrails like knowledge i devour, an eater fell in love with famine. arent i just like my mother? a lady, sword on her hand scale ingrained on her heart covers her eyes, but never forgets to count. how many years do i have left? outlive me, or rather i'll let you have my youth.