Deep incisions once raw now mended
Blood drenched hospital gowns cover up
Mounds of discarded flesh
In the mirror stares eyes that aren’t mine
Though the reflection still holds my likeness
Despite the crystalline pottery shards
As many countless images stare back
Each one glowering at what I’ve become
You do not know the tantalizing power
Till you’ve drunk from that fiery, maniacal chalice
This is what you made me, a Patchwork quilt of agony
Born to be the shining rays of hope
A glittering savior for this pale blue dot
Whilst tyrannical men with briefcases in hand
Plunge the world into unending disarray
As atoms swing dance in my palms.
The cataclysm we sang hymns about
Came crashing through the front door
Ripping the world into innumerable pieces
Its molecule stretched into strands of whisky hair
Maybe if the briefcases saved lives
Scientists making solutions back then
Instead of quilting a goddess from mortal flesh
Maybe they’d still drink from Nature’s bosom
Rather than gulping a mouthful of ectoplasm.
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