Who do we become?
These eternal penances –
Blood debts I’ll be paying,
Long after I’m dead.
Cursed as my clan is,
Doomed to suffering.
Forsaken.
My work.
The past memories of who I was.
Tired of being formless,
Transparent as a safety measure.
Tell me,
Won’t you?
What are you grateful for today?
A rote that changes the soul.
This cold dark heart,
Beating once a decade.
This current comfort,
Comes from a grandmother.
Hundreds of hours of reading in bed.
Drinking power,
From a place of gathered knowledge.
Every ancestor,
In unison.
Fueling my futile attempts,
At survival.
Persisting despite odds –
Using every trick,
Of magic or science.
A thousand hunted truths.
My love,
Often hurts.
A raw bleeding of the heart,
Ragged as it is.
We are cursed,
My love.
Simple witchcraft.
Carried like venom in the blood.
I wish I were wrong,
That I wouldn’t have to resort,
To such dark magic.
Simply to exist.
But I have endured a hundred lies,
‘Ere a dozen betrayals.
Toxicity is easy to filter,
From these medicines.
Let me show you my inner warlord –
Burning bones to charcoal,
For use as paint.
What Are You Grateful For Today?
