Part I: Feeding the Fire
She’ll breathe with fire in her lungs,
casting shadows about the corners of her capillaries.
Will thoughts unclouded by symmetry fall like ashes from her hands,
or will unseen wolves devour the heart I once held dear?
There are tears echoed upon the neurons of her mind,
gentle wounds I cannot heal.
Are there medicines for these malformed nets,
or shall I wander the Earth with broken fingers unseeing?
Genetics have wounded my God given sight,
stripped me of retinas guided by trust.
Will grace ever filter through my pours like milk?
Mutants dance happily through my blood,
twisted cells letting the infection rip through me.
(I am not dead yet, but nor am I alive.)
My mind, it shifts through time in nonlinear dimensions—
and can you see the love lighten my path?
I am the angel cast down to foster your fears,
I carry the burdens of my past like iron crosses plastered to my ribs.
Will you come to that cave hidden in my mind?
...Or will you open up the veins and suck the marrow from my bones?
Part II: When It Falls
Did you weep for me,
the sinner pondering her fate in the dark?
“Light my path with gentle sounds of mourning.