
I just want to run—
To flee fast away—
Take flight from the sun
This emaciated day.
To disappear, not hide—
I want nothing to find—
I want day to subside.
Leave me beaten—blind.
I want birth reversed,
My own uterine demise.
I want out—I’m cursed—
I’m too traumatized.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
Tittu


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