I have been born and I have died a thousand times. Millions of prayers have gone up against me, praying to he who has never cared for them, praying that he grants one wish.
I imagine Frankenstein’s monster, nameless as I am nameless.
What pain he felt when hewn together by the castaways and broken things.
Made to be a monster, from ashes he was not created, and to ash he could not return.
From afar I hear their voices and I wonder if I could ask their god to save me.
I am a monster and no whole pieces are in me; even my soul is made of excess.
I wonder if I should ask for my mother, but she is nowhere and does not exist to me and what would I say.
They want my words to carry; my words are more than my name. I will haunt their vision little; my words will be immortalized.
I give them nothing and they will mark me out of history entirely.
I will be a monster.
In the darkness of my own mind I am alone but I am not lonely.
In my mind is the veil and it lifts in anticipation.
I am soon to join them in everything or nothing.
Her gaze pierces my flesh before they do and I wonder if she will find peace.
I am what they say; I must be, because I hope that she does not.
She will take the image of me sleeping and it will be her salvation. He answered her in my death.
A life for a life.
I do not wish to go easy or at all. A slow moving ice travels my veins and it is the last touch I will feel.
I have imagined this moment and at first it seemed a peaceful thing, to know. A mercy.
It is not. I have prayed to their god and hoped that he would hate me as they do and take back my soul and recreate me in the image that he used to create them.
He did not. I am a monster.
I have avoided her last moments because I do not wish them to be mine.
Was I there for hers? That is the question that they ask but it remains unanswered.
Does it matter now? Did it ever?
I am a monster, hewn together from her pieces.
I have borne and I have died death a thousand times over. Do not
Do not give my name to God as evidence of
The wrong or right. Leave me there, nameless if you must.
Frankenstein’s monster should not go to my grave.
If only my heart bury the human pieces that are left.
There is no light now, but maybe it will come after.
Maybe there is a place for me.
Maybe I will return