No children;



Cold uncoils in the blood;



Science, true, not good



For you. So old,



Suddenly, or so young.



Lyric inside not to be sung.



Plug pulled, screen gone.



Sun out; mind



Bountiful, playing pain.



These are my children



In my head. Unbegotten.



This is to self-forget,



To have the future



Born forgotten.





