I was born from death, drowning.
My lungs burst as I escaped the parturient canal of the beast.
I was showered in its amniotic fluid, its acid burning the sores left from the maggots.
My ears rang as the piercing sound of bone scraping bone echoed through the forest; my stomach turned as the taste of marrow seeped through shattered teeth.
I lay amongst the leaves, alive, only to experience the pain of an excruciating death.
A stag approached. Its antlers, as sharp as knives, tore through my body, clearing my insides of all that caused pain.
I arose, a draping curtain of flesh. With grace, the deer entered me, and I was alive.

Thanks for reading my poem!

Penned by my hand on Gosday, the 5th of Severin, in the year 7 AC.