It was the same routine,
She'd get on her knees,
He'd pray her jaw wouldn't falter,
With naught else to bring,
He'd try hard to please,
She'd guide his maw to the altar.
Till a sour taste remained in spaces,
Their waists hastened to fill,
In a glass case, it stayed, faceless,
Its tiny screaming, born still.
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
It was the same routine,
She'd get on her knees,
He'd pray her jaw wouldn't falter,
With naught else to bring,
He'd try hard to please,
She'd guide his maw to the altar.
Till a sour taste remained in spaces,
Their waists hastened to fill,
In a glass case, it stayed, faceless,
Its tiny screaming, born still.
