April is a writhing twist of weeds that are unnecessarily growing in your stomach.
Knotting and gnarled they mangle your insides.
Motions of incomprehensible nature.
Sometimes maybe, sometimes no,
Always April.
-- "April" by Samantha Felix
Enough with this "writhing twist of weeds unnecessarily growing in [my] stomach" which, in the process, "mangle [my] insides." (And not to mention my brain and sometimes also my heart.) I think I'd just rather skip that, thank you very much. None of this "sometimes maybe, sometimes no" business. Give me certainty. Give me answers. Give me settled-ness.
Is that too much to ask?
2 comments:
Haha - I thought that when you referenced the growing mass of tangled weeds you were referring to being pregnant and having something foreign kick you in the middle of the night. Either way, it's an interesting read :)
Hehe...I hadn't thought of that interpretation -- I like it though. It definitely could work!
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