Watch me now, I won't do this gracefully.
I'll prove that screaming in anger
is crying in pain.
I will show in every spray of
spit that passes my broken teeth
that tears are not all that drip down my face.
And the red in my face
is the ember that will char the pines for miles,
and if it burns down this house, so be it-
no accident that the fireplace will be what's left,
the hearth of this home will never be truer.
But it is those ashes that I'm grasping at;
when they are cold they will explain
what my heart knew
before the blood boiled over;
that there was nothing to save.
I swear the gods left my body then-
there was nothing to save.