Modern Romanticism

Oh, devil inside,
Demon inside,
Makeshift goodbyes
Have only sought to soothe
What came crashing to me as comfort,
To blow it away.

What was an origin,
Was a womb,
For I was born a monster, in a monster's belly.
Her eyes stare the world to sadness,
Her form is toxic in its structure.
Grown from thorns and stricken with a blight of the moon,
She carries the weight for miles.

Do I breathe destruction,
Or do I forgive
A child born,
Or a mother torn?

Her life still fumbles
Between sickness and memory.
Her heart still sends its weight
Back to its core.

Fertilize
My need to mutilate,
My dreaded desire to escape
From the mouth of a one I knew to be an angel,
Yet had the wounds of a hunted mammoth,
With the wings of a tyrant.