Papa just let me rest

Put my mind at ease
For the shards you use
To tear through my skin
Make me bleed

Oh it hurts so much papa

When your bullets plunder my heart
It beats feverently; an ill tuned symphony
Trying to mend itself again
A picture of flimsy patchwork

Papa clear the ground in front of me

The shards and thorns are making me weak
My feet can't take in your piercing anymore
They've gone from tan to scarlet
A fresh coat to paint over the marks I'm too ashamed to see

I beseech you one last time papa

Make the voices go away
The ones gnawing at my head
Telling me I'm not who you want me to be
Before I give myself to the demons who love me

He saw

Her wings lay torn upon the ground
Her screams muffled; cries scorching her throat
As they tore at her skin
Shattering the stars in her youthful eyes
As she watched; dulled and empty

                                                          ­       He knew

As her hand fell flat; uncurled
Her mouth, a stretched echo of her suffering
Marred colours of reds and blues charring her soul and body
With a single tear leaping from her ghosting eyes

                                                           ­                                                                    He rose

With the final gasp shifting dust above her cracked lips
The thud of her limp body thrown against rotting carcases
And the darkening sky shedding tears in anguish


He cradled her to his chest; numbing and warm
A finger pulled down the lids of her unsee in eyes
Whispering you're safe now Zainab
I've come to take you home