With the fire of the sky

the truthful truth is hidden behind the eye

and being content is nothing more than hate

rotting away behind a clean slate.

Take my hand: the roasting flesh;

whilst my insides feel even less than less

and on my knees, I ask for love;

not knowing he's been shot down: the Dove.

My fingernails have been dyed blue

and purple; using ink to sue

but what does it mean to live in a world

that has nothing more than expectations: duties to uphold?

I'll tell you: "I've lost an eye and a limb

toes clenched around the edge of the rim."

and with my last breath, I muttered support

to other whose lives wasn't so short.