I suppose I ought to consider the question rhetorical,
or know it simply means, I'd like to know what you've seen.

As a matter of fact, I've been the spider crawling beneath
your sheets, the worm searching your warmth as you sleep,

the pain that blooms wings when you wake up beneath
the surgeon's knife. Blue coastal waters have sucked my shores

with their icy lips, beat my black edges smooth. Something
once rose so high, I heard it was called a Mountain,