White Braid

thrown into a losing battle
inherited from the diseased womb
disconnected from a life source. cut off too soon
withdrawals at birth
time to start that fucking search again, cut off too soon
withdrawals at birth
looking high and low, for a fucking pseudo womb
nothing compares to that sweet taste
high and low, inching closer to the womb
sweet taste, blows through the satisfied lips
it feels like i’m coming home