Poetry, the Stars; and whatever Space lies between

The Monster

    Brought into life; not for death

    But to brand me with your heart and faint breath.

    Their words-

    Like stakes, to drive though my green skin;

    hit me, stab me. Make me feel faint within.

    I moan.

    So bitter, I cry

    Out loud to no one. And though I weep,

    My face-

    Blistered and dry.

    Torches in rings; flames too bright

    See my sick face, writhing in scorching light.

    Burn me-

    To ash, then sigh and blow me away;

    Tease me, lead me. Show me you've feigned your tears.

    I scream.

    So seared, I am dry

    Close to ready, though still I am raw,

    So hungry-

    At my bones, you pry.

    Yet now; ever as silent, eternal, and blissfully still-

    I've no flesh. No blood to bleed.

    No muscles to move and no spirit, passion, or will.

    Now covered in new seed

    I have fire,

    Which pulses within; though I am now thin,

    It rages inside; turns all my thoughts

    to hide. I feel so alone, I toil and try

    Yet still I smile;

    For now I can say that I am truly alive.