Sober Womb's

Oh how I hoarded freedoms spell, shall I tell you about it?
I was like a starved canon firing off empty, eating depletion
but why did this Master prevail me?
Woe to those cloning mannequins from intoxicated wombs.
If only the cocoon had a willful widow of unfamiliar wings,
to think of what treasures it might have known had it known.
Where's the foreshadows to summon my clarity?
This threshold of ephiphany must pursue wings they'd never known
for how else can sober womb's gather what's torn.