Young Writers Society

Author's Note: For anyone who has read any of my previous works, this is a rework of "For You and Your Hatred (A Song of Forgiveness)." 

Curtain rises, accelerando. 

I came from the stars and the moon and the sky,
And I find when I’m dying, I finally fly.
We played with glass shards and our fingers, they bled-
Our love waxed and waned like the song of the dead.
So we raised our fists and we cursed at the sky,
But I find when I’m dying, I finally fly.

We danced with grand fervor, we crossed the Milky Way-
And when the night drew to close, I sweetly begged you, stay.
You whispered sweet nothings, you told me to hush,
So I dutifully listened, but my blood turned to dust.
I wished every wish on every star in the sky,
And I find when I’m dying, I finally fly.

And you were your own and unto yourself,
I was left as an unwanted toy on the shelf.
My wrath was dusty from years of disuse
And my heart spun slowly from a thirteen-fold noose-
Between the cage of my ribs and the pulse of my blood
And the rasp of the tide and the song of the flood,
I was filled with dark magic and the stars of the sky
And I find when I’m dying, I finally fly.

I shouted in vain at the man on the moon,
My hysteria making a sweet little tune,
Like a song so discordant, a meaningless noise,
Yet delivered with grace and feminine poise.
I’m careful, I promise, I collide with precision-
Though the world looks on through a veil of derision,
But I am myself and unto my own-
I am much more than sin of flesh and of bone.
So when the night screams harshly, I look to the sky
And I find when I’m dying, I finally fly.

But if falling is like dying and the waning moon draws thin,
Then this falling is not flying but drowning in my sin.
And this moment is a dying breath, the desperate flicker of a light,
But who knows how long a star can shine when it shines that awful bright.
As for this galaxy inside of me, stars and planets will align,
Yet for all this beauty in me, I would die to just be fine.
As the years drag on around me, I think I’m standing still
But my voice still bubbles from my throat, panicked-like and shrill.
It isn’t me that’s motionless, rather the rest of the world that waits,
Then suddenly I’m collapsing, towards Hell’s almighty gates-
And even as I’m falling and the sun sits judging in the sky,
I find that as I’m dying, I finally can fly.