I dig deep into the earth,
preparing coffins for my unborn children,
skeletons that I seem to put to bed,
but instead I find my own bones,
unfit for my skin in my hands,
this vessel of mine struggling in its capacity to contain,
so I weep,
in hope this ocean of grief would stop,
yet the lamenting continues,
and I begin pillaging my insides for peace,
starting wildfires in hope to kill off the dead,
those living, already killed me time and time again,
now a crematorium can be seen set up in flames,
my gravestone already prepared, awaiting,
one day, peace will come out of all of this.