Within my open casket
we speak of times long past
we dwelt in the highest tower
and fell to death in turn
speak of these times, and see what has been devastated
innate brokenness draped around frail shoulders, a grove
where Juliet and Romeo laughed and died
walking alone in empty corridors
hallways with doors closed and locked
and no chance of survival
untold stories of innocence lost
like a paradoxical twist
for my story is known and told
deep in the shadows of the haunted forests
amongst the shattered hermits of the past and the ghost
stories of tomorrow
Thus my life is wrought like impure iron
molding beautifully
looking strong and whole, hiding weak fragility
of an imperfect breed
unworthy of the charitable euthanasia
boxed like an orphaned litter
and left to die like a stray
concrete pillars of society falling like burning candles
laugh at the dictatorship they created
where the outcasts are removed like hemorrhaging cancer
balanced on the tip of denial
sweeping towards the end of the earth
all knobby groves and screeching forest
encased in broken iron
held together with pyrite and geode
together we find a stolid night to share
