Everlast bag, microcosm of my aggression, tattered and twisted on the floor;
much like me.
i grit my teeth
the pain a reminder of what will be
Braxton-Hicks turning into reality as amniotic fluid gushes
i grit my teeth, for i will be alone, much like i am now
your sweet prince will not save you then and no one will save you now
with a grunt and a bitten back scream i stand
and hobble to the stairs
much like i will then
when my sweet prince, my protector, will not be there
and I have to save myself.