The Creation

The moon sits mellow, slung high
While the sun drains it's despair on us,
Coated in distain.

I could scream so hard now,
Until my body explodes,
Releasing the being I am.

I know inside, in this creature,
Endowed with black feathered wings,
A jewelled brow and sunken cheeks,

I could scale the cliff face with no fear of falling,
Crawl through the smallest hole,
Inch through the narrowest crack in time.

My head falls in my hands,
My eyes pipets full of cold acid,
The pleasure of weeping spiked with burning frustration.

Let me scream until my chest erupts,
Some paranormal thing exploding from my chest,
My real form, drenched in power, cruelty and hate.

To be force fed pain, anguish and disgust,
This distainful sun bathing my every pore,
Absorbing it's crude, bare, obvious delight.

I would dethrone the sun and anoint the moon,
The stars, her jewels, a world
Swathed in her radiant gleam.

Let me flight, sing, be
Let me just be this animal,
The Creation I was created to be.