...Embittered Prophecy...
You've instilled in me
your embittered prophecy
about what my life should
and should not be
I have slid more than
once or twice
down the precipice
of your muted octave world...
drenched in notes of sorrow
soured and screeching across
the highway of my soul
where the sun cannot warm
and the rain cannot chill
my only refuge remains
in the vial of blood
both drawn and flowing
for my own use
withdrawn and examined
by the surgical procedure
that I indeed authorize
for review
and what They find there
is your embittered prophecy
scattered along the fringes
fighting like white against red
a subtle combustion
constantly
painfully
alive