The saturday evening pass into Sunday morning
You lie on the ground of the bathroom, cowered like an embryo.
In your black dress you look like a dirty puddle on this glaring white floor.
You never really knew what you had done.
Was not able to realize.
But you love it!
It was your inner wish to enter this world.
To learn what others cannot see.
But is it what you wanted to see?
Destruction of this little soul?
You forced her become a murderer, doesn't like herself.
Frightened about opening the door.
The door to december!

Now you lie on the ground of the bathroom, cowered like an embryo.
Frightened about your own creation.
Your way of life
In your black dress you look like a dirty puddle on the glaring white floor.
Waiting until she comes back, to let you know about your might.
About the might of december!
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by Dickinson