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Anguish - Blog Posts
every trans person with a bad mother deserves 1 billion dollars
had a dental procedure on Friday, I hate my new bite so much, I can’t even eat food normally-
2 sentences a day i love writing fanfic god bless
I was birthed from the torn stomach of night,
drenched not in milk,
but in the black bile of forgotten prayers.
The world spat me out
as a creature too ruined to be loved,
a wound with legs,
a scream with teeth.
Hope;
was a bone thrown to a starving dog.
I gnawed it until my mouth filled with splinters,
bled until my tongue knew only the taste
of broken promises.
I grew eating hunger,
drinking the venom of people's hate,
wearing the bruises of their disgust
like a second, rotting skin.
The colour of my flesh...
an open invitation to cruelty,
a crime I could never peel from my bones.
And when I crawled through the sewage of my years,
a thing barely breathing,
I thought love would be the knife to cut me free.
Instead,
it was another dagger...
this one twisted slowly into my throat
while I watched her eyes,
soft and shining,
for someone else.
Tell me, God,
what is more merciful:
to be born blind to love,
or to be shown its light
only to have it ripped from your hands
by fingers colder than the grave?
If there is a God of agony,
He carved His name into my ribs with rusted nails,
He strung my tendons into a lyre
so He could pluck songs of suffering
from my every step.
At night, I lie rotting,
a feast for the worms of memory,
as my dreams decompose around me,
the stench of what might have been,
thick enough to choke a corpse.
I feel decay threading through my blood,
I hear my hope
crackling like dry leaves under the boots
of things that never loved me.
My soul,
no, not even a soul,
a shattered lantern,
spilling its last flicker into a pit
where even maggots refuse to crawl.
And still,
some putrid, twitching part of me
reaches out,
fingers broken and blackened,
begging the silent stars
for something,
anything,
that does not end
in rot.
-Cyrus K.