From the Darkness

March 12, 2012
From the purest, deepest darkness I am delivered.
Tiny hands cling to my warm, beating chest
As I float

I sense the others, the giants.
They know I am coming,
Our worlds are changing,
They are restless.

I am released from my watery cradle.
Slipping, slithering from the hollow,
Fresh, frigid air meets my skin.
I don't like this new place,
The doctor's hands are cold.

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