It is a dead end.
To be cast into the mould
Of a victim and
Stay there and
Grow comfortable,
In need of cotton wool.
The air will run out.
Growth will shatter.
Self-awareness reduced to ashes.
Identity forced into a corset,
A red flag.
The forever fetal state
A revolt in a seating position,
An unseen face,
A frightened heart,
An immediate system shutdown.
Checkmate.
The ejection into the world
Happens for a reason.
Don’t fall asleep before
Having been awake.
“Resting Zorka” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)
Croque-Melpomene 