Belief inborn

When people whisper, what a story
As if lives weren't real
As if characters couldn't feel

There is no creation in belief
It is already inside you
Swaddled in your belly 

We justify and sacrifice
And I will break my water
because time is near
I'm shedding fear
--to face demented truths inside me

What faults of mine are not webbed
around this sphere of mass
clinging to the veins and nutrients

What proof besides my
breathe-stained glass
fogging your sight from my mind

and written out in black ink
or carved, and scratched
and bled

What you leave behind is not unsaid
It is written in the stone
It's not my own

You once asked me for
unabridged
And I refused to open yours
What good is to caress a book, unless you understand
the words