LAMENT OF THE FORMLESS

Within and without is no match for The doubt that
Claws at my heart and beats through The veins and weights on the soles Of my feet that pound over the

Dirt and shape into
Valleys a small place for me to Sleep and hide all my
Worries
My shame
And regrets
That have no place in
My head but exist to serve
The devil
That lives there instead.
Please show me that happiness Can bloom without
Food and sorrow can
Exorcise itself without asking
To die or vye for
Greater real estate that
Cannot be bought
Or sold
Or rented
Or given without the
Cry of a woman
Without a vessel to call her own.

Writing, Fiction

Sarah Soltan
Atlanta, GA, BFA Interactive Design and Game Development