It's a war poem, boys
I was never born, not from flesh and tender womb
I was forged in iron and rust and bloodsong
They wondered why I volunteered with eager hands, all too ready to ruin
I'm flaying hearts open with my teeth
Tearing skin from skin
Ripping wings from spines
And weaponry smiles at me like a grieving wolf. razors slicing gums but she smiles anyway.
I'm telling myself their blood wants to breathe, I'm letting it free. who am I to deny their wishes it's not me it's not me
My soul isn't sinless but I'm telling myself it is
This is a bounty, this is a massecre,
But I was forged amidst fire and shotgun
There is only one way to end this and I'll break every rib to do it
This is not a sacrifice, this is a slaughter
There is an ache inside me and I'm spitting it out onto the ground
My hands are not clean but yours are more stained
It's not me it's not me, you whisper and I echo and we tell ourselves the same lies
It's a form of birdsong
It's not me it's not me
Did any of us feel the love of a mother before we were devoured did any of us ever feel whole did any of us break from the chains, from the cage, from the hands wrapped around our throats
You promised us victory but you gave us silver knives instead of a crown and slit our throats with them.
