In another world this might have been a prayer,
sweet tasted and repeated into the dark
An old fashioned prayer to the new self made god,
cleansed and rebounded with force
I might have accepted what he has offered with what little self preserved thoughts I had left,
sacrificed all of my bone marrows for the ichor on his back,
I might have even saved him a couple of thousand words of devotion all breathed out in one hour,
filled a casket with all my 'best characters traits' so it would be easy to present it for him
Cause what good would an altar be if not a place for arranging parts of your flesh and hoping it gets devoured
and what good would this Earth be if not a stage for his tragedy
In another world this might have been his kingdom,
high and glorified into the infinity
A spacious kingdom of the god so unfamiliar that the prayers can only be heard as whispers,
silent like its a shame to say his name
I might have held onto them as an excuse to possess a higher notion of offering,
forfeit everything including the memories, saved empathy and persistent attitude,
I might have even ushered myself into taking a deal before it was even made,
damaged everything bad inside of me so it would be mistaken as a useful chunk
Cause what good would it be if not a honoured contribution to his shrine that changes its structure every time I mention a price
and what good would this praising be if not for his steps
In another world this might have been a moment I named him a saviour,
quick on feet and brave to death
An old fashioned hero instead of a suffering angel,
long forgotten and fallen,
mistaken as a cold celestial body with no offering on my side,
no given away energy that would sustain his thirst
To say he was glory among us mortals would be just a tale of guaranteed adventure,
to say that his oath of allegiance had any meaning would be a knowing lie,
to say that his shoulders harbon any feathers would be a blind men's statement,
but ain't I blind
and ain't I so foolish to pray
●●●
//July 2018//
