Life has turned dull and acrid,
Dust replaced blood; still becomes my bones.
Weeping women wail all over town.
I can’t be awake.
I walk steady in dreams.
The comfort I had once been given,
Had bathed in and glorified,
Is ripped away, leaving only the thick ink.
A substance so revolting that it fills me up.
My throat is black and oiled;
Brain submerged in shadow.
Let me speak to that once mortal man.
I will tell him all the wonders about all the sparks
Lighting up the world in rebellion.