They say to treat my body like a temple,
But I don't believe in a God.
There are cracks in the spaces
where love should be,
and weeds in the place
of flowers.
The glue holding the bandages in place
have worn off,
and the stitches
have torn.

I've learnt through
Tough times,
surrounded by an ocean
of my own tears,
that light
shines even in a cemetary,
and that's what I am -
Half sunshine,
half grave,
the embodiment of
Persephone.
​