Prometheus' Child
I once thought my words brought forth wisdom,
but perhaps I’m just Prometheus’ child.
Stealing what isn’t mine for a small sum
of attention that leaves me feeling defiled.
Wearing the words I wrote with bloody hands
on my skin like an impulsive tattoo.
The permanent marks relentlessly withstand
my efforts to conceal their truth.
When I’m found out, the eagles will come
with their wings taunting my chains.
They’ll feast on my weakness until I become numb
and forget that they fuel off of my pain.
Hurt will be my greatest companion;
I’ll rely on it to determine if I’m still alive.
I think it’s the thrill of having to run
that keeps people wanting to survive.
Copyright © Jennifer Nevill | Year Posted 2024
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