To Live With Truth

***

The Gods may yet live to see
My spirit Overwhelmed
By their foul deeds.
Pewter shines true as silver.
I remain free to spite
The edict of our Lords;
Adorn my scarred wrist
With pink-dyed ribbons,
Soaked in oil,
Bound with iron,
Then, set alight.

Hubris concerns the opinions of Gods,
Which I hold no desire to hear.
Acceptance wrought isolation,
Waiting for the guardians
To grant me
Leave
To live.

I thought enough had been given,
Though I understand that blood
Isn’t the best gift;
There is always more,
Until there isn’t.
We are injured; our wounds
Are bound with the same fetters,
Which spoiled Fenrir’s innocence
Hiding a betrayal of kin. Now,
They bandage the lacerations
Of a different pantheon.
Sustained without faith,
For they never pretended
To love us.

Fear not this founded warmth, friend.
Do not succumb,
When the light inevitably fades,
When your meds
Are deemed
Illicit,
When our existence
Is judged
Corrupt.

Referenced In:

• Dear Anima
• Sylvie’s Poetry Portfolio