Feathers Under My Skin - Ephel Duath

Rootless I wonder against my balance point

Silence unwraps the weight of being

And there I lie

Untouched by emotions of sort

I fight back my own human smell

Inhaling rain and dirt

I find shelter under beds of leaves

I fail to hide my claws again

Spitting on what I’m called to be

I scratch my skin deep down looking for feathers

What I am is what I’m not

Acceptance is that road

I walk away from

I lead with pride my own disasters

Denying I learn

I’ll look at birds' eyes to get the answers I need

Light pulses through my nails

I draw my new self with it

A spinning top in constant motion

While my face

Like a watchtower remains still

My sight keeps aiming at the horizon

As far as it can get

Unfit to find any rest

I wish to transfigure in rocks or sediment

Motionless desires obstruct my run

I can’t find a way to hide from these walls

Urban decay is black oil dripping on my wings

I cry diamonds of salt

I feed myself with them

Every drop cuts my throat deep to the spine

Till my voice shrinks to a bloody wisper

Lost among the lost

I keep moving

While my feet can’t find any grip on the ground

I refuse the colours I see

I’ll feed crows with my eyeballs

And keep just darkness for me

I keep just darkness for me

What I am is what I am not

What I am not is what I’m cursed to be