---

Still serene

Pure and lifeless

Dirt etched into fingernail beds

Dragging the self over pavement

Broken at the legs, bloodied and screaming

Inhuman condition predetermined

Destined to crawl, left to rot

Echoing agonies from torn vocal cords

Six fingers in the throat while begging for more

Banshee's symphony

Whistles through the nape of my neck

Tattered limbs

Convulsing like

Willow branches in a violent gust

Corpse like union

Twisted between the

Pillars of my

Immolated Self

If,

If you preach your father's

"Wisdom"

Will he ever call to you promising sanctuary?

Can you hear me?

Do you see this immolated self?

Father

False father

Father

You're no fucking savior