Some people grieve by the skin of their teeth,
But I lie in a casket of sun tarnished flowers.
Feasting my fears with pollen and mold,
Gold winged beetles make a home in my bones.
Dragonflies weave tears into thread on my eyes,
Sealing my sorrow in a vessel of silence.
The stars are bitter when the moon is awake,
They only smile when she fails to shine.
I wonder if the sun has a similar cycle,
If one day I'll wake with the moon at high noon.
Gravity wreaks havoc on my unborn wings,
Still dormant under well-scarred skin.
Winter waits between pages of hatred,
Her embrace inevitable in the race against time.
Autumn comes, the yearly turning,
Darkness soothing my light-burned eyes.
I crush my sorrow like maple leaves,
Grind to dust what remains of my trust
The price for love is next month's rent,
I prefer a roof to butterfly wings.
My heart screams belief but my mind denies,
Truths only proven under iron and hammer.
My skin is mere flesh and will rot in the summer,
But where I may wither in mourning darkness will cover with silk.
I will find peace if I must bleed to achieve it,
If what I need requires belief, then heresy I'll sow for a god with my face.