I live in an hourglass,
A curved pass,
With sands of time drowning me before swallowed,
I don't serve the mercy of a genie's home hallowed,
Rubbed before infinite release,
Slavery only for lease.
Or Pandora's box,
Set free before hope mocks.
I live in the shape of women who scorn,
A mere reminder of the first sin ever born.
If I could turn before the end of this hour,
Give you a second of peace to devour,
I'd live where all your problems cease,
And I'd do it with ease.
Please take this glass home and shatter it to pieces,
Take my voice and remove it from the screeches.
I may regret taking what tempted me into shame,
I may never learn to break out of this mold set in my name.
I believe in all the myths surrounding my form,
But I never believed I'd have to suffer man's scorn.
YOU ARE READING
An Ode to Muses to Polyhymnia
PoetryThis poetry collection explores loneliness, theology, Biblical characters, depression, heartbreak, and disappointment. It's a good read for someone going through a bad time, but surprisingly hopeful.
