Drowned Personal Disorder

Upon the wet rock, my mind's tide collapses Fingers numb and Quickly crushed by hoofs of my Oppressor A possession assumed temporary And, why should priests pray As my own cross drowns me

For I am weak.

Not a branch in my tree, but mere twigs Broken and unfixable Sprawled willingly before A crimson visage of Hamlet Wearing my own mask And should my own horns break in my back I shall put myself on trial

Though hours pass, I stay on the rock Slipping

Further

Into

My handmade illness

I feel a demon's weight Born by others Who blame me for such a wretch While onyx water and floating stars slap my legs As my digits snap

I look through rainy stained glass Upon a sleep, and I'm worried To sleep To dream And by a sleep I let loose my body's guard Inviting the scarlet mirror to tear at my blood

Though I am told my waters are clear I feel the rapids My eyes bear witness to a Goat on broken twigs And I hear my demon cry