Trigger Warning
blow you bitterblue wind
whirl away the thorns
that crown me
i refuse the cup
i am no sacrifice
no god would find me pleasing
i was not born to die for anyone
words that must be spoken
tremble on my tongue
nothing sacred calls to me
but for the speaking of truth
as prismed through my eyes
and i will fight
kicking screaming
until the last syllable is uttered
imperfect as i am
i surrender nothing
i know that what i burn will be rejected