Truth is an arrow
it pierces, yet purifies,
leaving the wound clean,
a scar that remembers,
but does not deceive.

Hypocrisy is an ointment
it soothes, yet poisons,
numbing the pain,
covering rot with fragrance,
a sweetness that kills.

Better the cut of truth
than the kiss of lies,
for only what bleeds
may one day be healed.

I used to twirl
in everyone else’s dance
until I bled every drop
of my do into their won’t.

Pale as a sacrifice I rose
where I fell and drank
from the well of self.

Belittle, berate, I no
longer hesitate to
prioritize I before you.

Precocious baby, tempered to a china-blue hue, you
Had not been ripe as a morning glory
Before riots mongered in the plasma of your shapeless head.

Haunting as an omen, you
Had drank from the cord of my cold-blooded artery.
Turned my insides out like a shimmering dime bag
As we fell to the earth.

Blue rose
Let love
Trickle down
Through your
Thirsty heart