the huntress arrives underneath the inky sky
clad in black with dark kohl ******* her eyes
slowly making way towards her prey
a predatory dance under the crescent moon
she smells blood in the air
metallic like the stone cold surface of her sword
she senses fear emanating from the injured mortal
the wounded creature drags itself mournfully on the snow
“pathetic” she thinks wryly
her boots clank on the ice as she gets closer to her target
finally face to face with the beast
her past right in front of her
for she remembers who this was
who she used to be
a shadow of herself
a forgotten silhouette
a fragile spirit
one which easily broke
a fickle being
one which easily caved
“you no longer serve a purpose”
she raises her sword high into the cold night
an evil look on her face
which sends shivers down the spine of her victim
she brings down the weapon in one swift motion
the creature’s eyes go wide
it’s body turns limp
a maroon stream begins to flow
the mission is complete
the damage done
her destiny fulfilled
the huntress mounts onto her black stallion
and rides away in the witching hour

merely an outer shell
it breaks and binds
keeps the insides safe
though not always
flesh and blood
skin and bone
a restrictive armour
can’t escape it
nor can you forever live in it
subject to decay
till it crumbles into the soil
and becomes one with it

fill my cup
fill it up with poison
let it burn my throat
let it corrode the insides of my body
let it leave behind a carnage
let it destroy everything in me
i feel alive
in its damage
i feel comfort
in its pain
i feel thirst
for its venom
i taste nectar
in its bitterness
i see an antidote
in this deadly elixir
and there is no stopping
until i consume the very last drop

remorse isn’t a part of my life anymore,
any atrocity that i commit doesn’t shake me to my core anymore,
love me or hate me,
it’s all the same

•••

maybe that’s why im so flawed,
maybe that’s why when i cut people off i don’t feel an ounce of regret,
perhaps it’s just an empty victory,
one tainted with satisfaction and subtle despair,
the decorum of a deranged mind,
where lack of prudence breeds recklessness,
lack of warmth breeds detachment,
and lack of conscience breeds mortal sin

these eyes have cried an ocean of tears,
this heart has endured hurt in the form of daggers and swords,
this mouth has kept an eternity of words unspoken,
these ears have heard things that can’t be forgotten,
this body has fought wars that are yet to be won
-
but this phoenix will rise from the ashes,
unshaken and unbroken,
like the heat of the sun that’s ever burning,
warming everything it touches,
the phoenix will be unrestrained,
insuppressible,
and effervescent