Haunted

It's a metallic taste in my mouth

I didn't expect so much blood. 

It trails down my legs and stains the carpet 

It seeps through the walls and steals all the warmth

It settles in with an eerie chill I know will always haunt me

The death of a dream. 

A miscarried identity. 

My womb is so so empty, I hear it echo forgotten lullabies 

A picture of a woman, rocking a child against her chest

All the world is against her, yes...

but the baby coos softly, tiny fingers grasping, grabbing at thin air, searching for 

something solid 

And finding her mother there. 

And her mother, her...a little gift unto herself. 

The child is myself, but a few years ago

Or perhaps a moment, I don't know. 

I found purpose then. 
I know I'll find it again.