You laid in the graveyard
Wanting all the ghosts of children, men and women to return to bodies anew
Like you were the Christ and all your burning blood was like his holy love
You laid in the graveyard and your suffering grew.
You pretended that you'd stabbed yourself a wound true
With a blade as Dark as obsidian
Like your pain
Like you were ending your life the way you came
Drenched in blood but not screaming or a birthing cry just wanting to die
Your mind wanted some affirmation
of power, of saving grace
misguided by your tortured young face
The covenant of god to man
Seems to misunderstand
Why we are here?
to grow?
to nurture or to disappear?
Hopefully wiser than we began
Covered in hope and withstanding our own fear.