Livestock

It began With a pen In my hand Stabbed In the center of chaos To write out the light That lives within me That sought to break The darkness Eating me alive For hours I would sit Dreaming, drawing Writing, believing My arm in a sling One eye swollen shut Whispering There would be a way out There must be A way out Focused On the paper On the floor That held me Heavy as a stone In the corner Of that tiny room Floating on a river Of Imagination Isolated On my knees Seeded in the soil With girls Younger than I Holding their backs Arching puffed bellies Stuffed full with their Infected children Celestial incest Terrestrial insects We slept in boxes That doubled as coffins Because Some were smart enough To die But not I Stubborn little cyclops I Was destined To fight --- Livestock - Otep