"Language"

I pick my teeth with thorns

As a rose’s blood runs down my chin.

Today will be the day--

A comet impacts my bones,

Shards splintering at every word.

“Respect the fragile things--don’t touch”

They said

Well, then rip your nails out of my heart

Don’t touch

Mine!

Mine alone.

Words pass through my head but none are clear to comprehend

They command my hand to move and I obey

“What does it mean?”

How should I know?

I’m the one with a tattered soul.

A beast lives in my spine

And my skull drums of fine white powders

I’m the one the skeptics cried

Over and the believers weep on

Why would anyone take me seriously?

I have no idea what I’m talking about, remember?

White masks cover my warriors’ faces

Yet I’m the one not making sense.

Apparently I’ve yet to learn my own language.