Spontaneous prose by Ada J. Raven
Cold and rough I make my way into the world trying to find fruit.
I am unfriendly and unwanted especially in my mind and I’m sure outside as well, hollow and wanting and unable to pour from my empty cup.
It’s not what you think but it is painful, and my life’s mission will be to find relief.
To contribute would be my only other wish, the one other thing I hope to achieve.
Maybe I’ll find the way before I die;
I hope I do.
Until then, this is my lot. Rambling until something comes out and unsure if it’s good but oh well it exists.
This fruit lacks sweetness; it puckers and stings my lips.