untitled III

a poem that came to me in the middle of the night. what if the light at the end of the tunnel is us being pushed through another vagina.

what if the light at the end of the tunnel is just the start of a new life.

to go through this hell once again this time ill end it with a knife.

will I do it differently, will I do it up good, or will I end up in a white robe and hood.

to deal with all this s**t again be a baby to a teen, and "forget" all the things I had once seen.

to lose my bow and start again would b truly hell, what is that insanity into which I fell.