The Outcast

[Nightgaunt]

I wrote this a little over two years ago and thought I'd post it here. I don't know if it's good or bad, but I kind of like it...

The Outcast

Cold and hard like Winter steel,

Tempered by a planet sunken, sallow,

Oh jaded, wasted youth, they tsk,

Knowing eyes rolling in bovine heads

As they down their shots of Apathy - with just a splash of Fear.

Pools of liquid night, her eyes

Swallow the light, the false platitudes.

Beneath the din and clamor of the quickening World,

Spirits call weakly to her assailed ears,

Entreating, weeping.

Her hands tied by a world that will not listen,

She cries in silence perfect, deep.

Slipping sleeping through Reality's cracks,

She comforts forgotten angels

Who, keening, claw at blackened, twisted wings.

Oh irony! She must escape her body

To truly feel, to be felt -

To hear the rough and raw tattoo

Of the drums that keep the Universal Beat.

Shedding flesh and bone and blood -

The shrieking, clutching, burning World,

She slips, ethereal, mysterious,

Darkly glittering and soft

To realms apart -

Outcast no more.