The Victim

A poem

Fetal position is supposed to act

As a shrinkage

Hovering over time periods now vacant

Do you remember when your corset broke

Right in the eye catching view of the hunter? The thief?

Eyes acting as your internal overcast

They don’t remember, but you do

And boy, you run with it

You were truly grown from the lushest, most delectable fruits

But you promote inner rot?

Let it fuzz

Over that higher plane

And all that you could’ve done to stop it

Was simply remove your

Knees

From your chest

Look back at your broken corset,

And thank it.