Buaileann gáire m’chluas
Foréigean an maidin.
Le troideanna ‘s Aoire,
Long too forgotten.

An ‘Screech’ gearr pic donn
A itheann an greann.
M’fhocail ach fianaise
That I hadn’t known.

Ach tá fhios ag’m fhírinne
An scéál,  is ár stair.
An gá lenár gaisce.
Why we are how we are.

Ag lorg an rath
Chaill tú d’Aidhm
Is d’fhág tú rud siar
Our reason for triumph

Mar sin, ná stop an gáire,
Coimeád do chuid greann.
Ní stopadh mo chroí
We know who has the crown.

If one carved with ****** cries,
The word hate upon
Every inch of my soft
Unforgiving viscera…

Twould not near
The pain in my heart.

It gnaws and it Tears
with razored claws
Like some rabid
Flesh eating animal

Blood pours, red
And awful and loud.
It drips forth from
Every sick pulsing vein.

It screams too
Distraught in its discord
It tastes my mind in
Its serrated jaws

Like some dog with
A sweet, humble bird.

I am designed to rot.
I am a disgusting, foul,
moulting creature
masquerading as human.
My skin peels,
My lips bleed.
Out of every crevice pours
litres of vile anxiety.
My stomach broils
with a sense of
worthlessness and undeserving.

You are the light
You float as a feather
Falling from heaven
To the earth.
You are charm
You speak with wit
And intently too.
Your calculated artistry
Mocks my grotesque earnesty.
You are holy. I am wrong.
I should not be who I am.
Luck seeps through my
veins in buckets.

I am an imposter amongst gods.