To the grey gem that sits in my womb,
I think we need to have a little talk.
I never noticed when you planned your first invasion,
apparently I took my irregular bleed far too casually,
I neglected the notion.

To the passive pearl that sits in my womb,
I don't think this is a fair fight to begin with.
While you have learned to make yourself an inheritance,
soaking the skill to silently evolve through generations.
With an experienced opponent,
what advantage does a 14 years old have?
But to be oblivious of her own anatomy.

To the bitter beast that sits in my womb,
I think you have been confused and sidetracked.
Fallopian tubes are not secret hallways you should sneak into,
it is not a tunnel for you to take shelter,
while wombs,
wombs are not your throne to claim,
you are not the Columbus of this mystery,
and it's not your home to remain.
It is motherly, but you are no child.

You, you are an old vengeance.
An old vengeance does not perish,
they are far too patient to initiate yet too strong to vanished.

To the grey gem that sits in my womb,
it is not merely your presence that I find difficult to cope with,
it's the possibilities that came and multiple with you.
The childless prospect from a 1.2inch trouble;
I live for challenges,
but some of them are rooted beyond deep in you,
they earned the title of 'fear'.

And you, little grey gem,
You have earned yourself that title,
a seed of fear in the womb of a fighter