PANDORA'S BOX

I died before I could live,

Kneeling before an oak tree,

With a sword sunken in my soil.

Prayers took form like songbirds,

Wrapping the wind around my milk-white grip.

Had I known that the opening

In the sky was just another wound

I would have never cried for my unborn child.

But this soil is flooded with Prometheus'

Crimes for a humanity that was not his

To give, but the gods to take.

So I'll kneel before them,

In front of this candle to beg 

For my humanity's forgiveness.