The Blood Of Terror

I was born with a gun in my mouth,

When my mother in her crimson casket

Had her chains anchored deep at her feet,

The dirt beneath her weight

Was her dystopian reality.

I was born with stamps of declarations imprinted in my blood cells,

The blood of terror flows through my vein.

I was born to die by the hands of a man,

He had flesh and bones like you and I,

But the folklore of the land of freedom

Flashes before my eyes.

He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth,

Cradling in warmth in his mother’s arms,

But in moments of uncompromising duties

To the land of the free to which he owes.

Here he lies with me,

Infused with the earth

We lay here skin to skin

And bone to bone.

We lay here indistinguishable

From the blood he spilled

From my own blood of terror.