i will die a wolf in making, with half-shaped words
buried under my skin, breathing out a thin
whimper, howling, cursing, bleeding and praying.
i will die a wolf in making, asking
for a light that never came, begging
for forgiveness and for a chance to
find the one that gave me birth,
she was the one that held
my soul in her arms of silver
touched my cheek with the warm breeze
of morning
- the early dawn of life's arrival,
when i was still made of stardust and wonder-
she gave me love and gave me laughter
before I was stained with
sharp blades of human mind,
dark whispers and evil thoughts
slowly
making
their way
to
slowly
making
their way
to
...
slowly
making
their way
to
...
then, I learned
that I was made for
throbbing aches and restless nights
i will die a wolf in making, carrying
scars of condescension
my body riddled with deep nests, they
are infected wounds, all human-made
for the evil birds to hide in
looking for a place to stay
they'll leave when the sun awakens
having ripped my soul away.
