MindWraith

The tattered corners of herself
blown away to faraway places,
places only heard in desolate echoes.

She sings a dirge
as she trudges along
the jagged edges of the world,
into the yawning chasms,
collecting the bloodied and shredded
scraps of herself.

With tears washing the blood clear,
She sews herself piece by piece,
skin onto the bones
that bleached in the parched desert.
Stitch by stitch
She sews the shunned, forgotten,
stolen and torn edges together
into the smoothed edges of the unblemished,
burnished parts of herself.
A mottled skin of chaos incarnate.

Over this self,
she hymns the deep call of life,
ululating all and nothing,
and wakes up
Beauty and the Beast.

***