What is Left of Me


I am a product, freshly made.
I am created, born of hate,
Unbridled, unbroken disaster,
Under another name.

I have seen life,
And I have been slain,
But in my life unlived,
I begin to grow vain.


An old man told me I owned my life
And that existence was simply strife,
That I could bridle living,
That I could dull its bite.


I believed I could be master,
Like the old masters said,
But after reigning life,
All I’ve become is dead.


I hope that life will wear down my teeth,
And that I will wear down its fangs.
To take away each other’s bite,
Not a battle between giants,
But an ever-gnawing storm.
Bite my skin and see me,
Life, it carves my form.


a storm is always brewing…

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