QUIET CORNERS
It’s been seven years in these quiet corners Intact is the state of everything With midnight routines of calm The blaming whispers keep me awake Oh how I long to be frightened Frightened by the sudden silence of a toddler Can’t wait to get eye-bags from an all-nighter Safe from the stigma stings of the quiet corners With hopes to chase after tiny third wheelers I long for a piece of the adrenaline rush from the joys of motherhood No longer can I deal with the unending hopes Basking in the paparazzi from womb watchers You all make my womb feel like an ex convict My womb, once full of hope and cheer, Now empty, like a hollow sphere