Irrelevance.
Jul. 25th, 2002 11:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
witchscauldronMy eyes are black holes, Void-sockets.
My hands are tools, weapons of destruction, or instruments of healing. My body is a fallen temple, crumbling and decaying, a piece of a past age stuck in the present.
My teeth are fangs that gnash, cutting and tearing, although it is immaterial to them whether the flesh is mine or another's.
My voice is faded, a dying Siren's last call, a banshee without meaning.
My wings are tattered and faded, a fraying mantle of black.
My mind is corroded, crossed wires stripped bare, missed and mixed messages.
My purpose is lost, uncertain of where I belong, or why.
I am irrelevant.
The moon hung high last night, bright, and the call to howl was strong. Yet the apathy that leeches me drained my spirit dry, and the call went unheeded. When even the simple joys that make you feel you are who you are vanish, what are you?
Are you even alive anymore, or merely living?
-M.
My hands are tools, weapons of destruction, or instruments of healing. My body is a fallen temple, crumbling and decaying, a piece of a past age stuck in the present.
My teeth are fangs that gnash, cutting and tearing, although it is immaterial to them whether the flesh is mine or another's.
My voice is faded, a dying Siren's last call, a banshee without meaning.
My wings are tattered and faded, a fraying mantle of black.
My mind is corroded, crossed wires stripped bare, missed and mixed messages.
My purpose is lost, uncertain of where I belong, or why.
I am irrelevant.
The moon hung high last night, bright, and the call to howl was strong. Yet the apathy that leeches me drained my spirit dry, and the call went unheeded. When even the simple joys that make you feel you are who you are vanish, what are you?
Are you even alive anymore, or merely living?
-M.
