Feelings of inadequacy linger,
hardened ‘cross my chest; strings pulled tight by tears
and I face my reflection—a finger
pointing out the vanity of my fears.
Justice blinded by her discrepancy,
I stumble sightless toward thy hallowed form
and, bloodied by violent symphony,
find naught but my hatred to keep me warm.
Oh! but night’s farewell is a somber tune,
etched in riddles and sealed in hellish fire,
and if I could escape by light of moon,
still thy flames would lick from hell’s open pyre.
Say not that I lose what once has been mine!
Let me have my life, or I will have thine.
-Kaitlyn Medina [4/15/08]