There will never be a final iteration of "Carry You"

It still hurts,
That damned hour when mother found out
She no longer held a uterus but a tomb
And the mausoleum of her clasping hands quivered
Like broken windows thrown against a porcelain-tiled floor
The sound of an unspoken hail Mary
Flowing down a drain
And I hope the water guided you out of those sewers
You are too clean to be born in purgatory

This is my faint wish upon a star-stumbled embryo