My skyward craft was deconstructed.
Left to dust, it could have flown,
Had not this toy sung it to home.
It was my fault that it resembled,
Far too much, a fleeting moth.
So long this world and all its nightmares,
So long my friend, the aching world.
For too long my father, soaked in slaughter,
Held this grudge on a seeking child.
Welcome my laughter, disguised as a daughter,
Unrecognized by her sick godfather:
A real machine made to unleash.
Her naked smile is a gate to Hell,
Behold, inside a metal burning trail.
When the fuse is short, the clouds will burst.
A real machine set to release the curse.
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 7:34 PM UTC
My skyward craft was deconstructed.
Left to dust, it could have flown,
Had not this toy sung it to home.
It was my fault that it resembled,
Far too much, a fleeting moth.
So long this world and all its nightmares,
So long my friend, the aching world.
For too long my father, soaked in slaughter,
Held this grudge on a seeking child.
Welcome my laughter, disguised as a daughter,
Unrecognized by her sick godfather:
A real machine made to unleash.
Her naked smile is a gate to Hell,
Behold, inside a metal burning trail.
When the fuse is short, the clouds will burst.
A real machine set to release the curse.
Part VI of Songs of Loss, book II of Unwinding Steely Strings.
Escape from this wretched place...
