When The Blood Ran Black

Death's Child

I was a child born of Death.
I had smoke for lungs and fire for blood.
The very look of my metallic eyes
turned a man to stone and a woman to dust.
My touch was like a disease,
for everyone turned to darkness at my embrace,
because darkness was what I ate.

But I didn't mean to.

When they cried out from the pain,
I screamed at them that it wasn't my fault.
Death was my Mother and Agony her groom.
Their twisted genetics turned my Soul,
made my infected Love disappear into the black pit of my bones,
where it nestled in the marrow to spread like cancer.
Hate was its name, and Destruction was its game.

The little angel on my shoulder liked to be called Madness,
but I know that it was a demon in disguise because
I ate its shadows as a babe,
too young to understand the consequences of my birth.

Some might call me a hurricane but I know
that my flesh is more like a sea
that had a thousand year drought, leaving a desert in the wreckage.

I was the Devil's whore, trapped to his whims,
given up as a sacrifice from my parents to appease him.
But eventually,
I became the Tormentor of the Wretched,
and the Queen of the Damned