You stole it all.
If I starve this body of mine.
If I tear at my skin,
with flame and needle and knife.
Would you find space in your heart?
Would you call off your hunt?
Would you lay your hate to rest?
Or are you ceaseless?
Churning like the ocean.
A deep void of monsters and rage.
And I, an imperceptible sailor,
braving waters that long to drown me.
Alone and powerless against the waves.
If I refuse to drown,
refuse to believe in a heart so black, so deep and cold.
When I come ashore,
burnt by flame,
pierced and torn by knife and needle,
starved and desperate.
Would you find space
in your heart then?
For a wretch that sailed your seas?