She swelled with the tide, a temple of flesh,
A prisoner of the moon, caught in its mesh.
The babe, a fish swimming dark seas unseen,
A Pisces prophet with eyes serpentine.
They wove the spell, this chaos, this sin,
A labyrinth of whispers carved deep in her skin.
“Forgive me,” she moaned, lips cracked and dry,
“This child will tear the veils of the sky.”
Her hands, pale ghosts, reached for the flame,
“Punish me, lover, call me by name.
Bleed me, feed me, make it all slow,
Your love is a mirror—I shatter, I glow.”
Her womb was a temple, heavy with fire,
The hymns of a rebel, the strings of a lyre.
The babe coiled tight like a venomous charm,
A grenade of fate cradled in her arm.
The stars watched silent, the earth held its breath,
A shadow-child dancing with the drums of death.
She laughed at the gods, her voice wild and free,
“This is rebellion—it starts with me.”