Only the mirror cannot lie to me
unlike you with your words of Love
I’ve tried to be deaf to all your shouts
but I can’t hide from the mirror
that shouts at me, over and over
why do I continue to pick
Olive branches from my hair
and continually step over the bodies
of each and every dove
Even at the birth of each new moon
I’m nowhere near my end destination
the fires that burn are upon wet wood
heaving beneath a false assumption
that it’s warmth it would share
I’m left shivering with cold
beneath a thin blanket of resignation
There was not a lot that I had to offer
but no other could I be
bruising in your brutality
tenderhearted as others would see
given that I was not one for this world
you used me to get further away
from Hell but now
Heavens gates won’t open for me