Modern Romanticism

Who do you grieve for,
When the night has no stars?

When the ice of the silent universe
Encompasses the space in your mouth,
For whom do you scream?

He died
To your satisfaction.
He bled
For your wounds.

He left,
With the wetness of your appetite,
Still remaining to dine.

I once was trapped in the four walls of a womb,
As I am trapped in the four walls of a house.
Blood smears the walls as I can barely breathe,
Let alone see
What a monster you've turned yourself.

Do you love yourself?
You will not forgive yourself
Without the cunning for a million more matters
Used to silence me.

We are brittle beings
Needing protection.
As I am a petal
Offered a thorn.