its the ded winter, nowhere in sight a life besides you and your infant you you exhume.
crying screaming and frozen tears rip off the face.
you die in no time youre sure of it.
baby making cry make you want to suffocate the sound. or child. or you.
no time til die.
you die, child die.....then two to exhume if one is to find,
after more make to burry and mourn the no-more.
youre a full person and the other a half .
......you...youyouyouyouyou..... do you eat the child??....
youve made before you can make more ..... but if you make it.
. . . . . . . . . . . i promise not to search for nothing to find.
ded cowardice feed on a barely born suffering.
and out of breath. no mouth to mouth. i eat both what i find.
a hellish hunger froze over the deadened bodies. preserved and rotting.
