Zeta by zetasyanthis

Zeta

#9 of Poems

I wrote this sort of accidentally, but my heart spoke, and I will always listen.

My name... is Zeta.

I'm not the same as most.

I've always been a little bit... /different/.

I've always been a little bit... /strange/.

Nobody knows what to make of me, least of all myself,

and nobody knows how I die.

Many have tried to slash my throat

to bleed me dry as bone.

Many have pierced, ripped out their spears

as I but scream and moan.

Many have come to hear my cries,

to take their bloody turn.

Many have come to try to end this dragon

who will not burn.

My scars, beyond those mortal men

ever had right to cast,

have yet not hardened my dark heart.

My light in it holds fast.

I know they come because they fear,

they fear the wrath they hold,

the hate, disgust, they hold for me

but which rips /their/ dark hearts cold.

I know their pain; I've felt it too.

I've lived as they do now,

And though they ever strike at me

I've lived and live through /all/.

Some call me a sorceress,

Some call me a mage.

Whoever I am... /Whatever/ I am, I chose the road I walk.

I have chosen to heal,

to die as I see fit,

and so I stand,

a silent beacon against the night,

a candle held... and lit.

<fin>