Each day is a mockery
As he taunts me
With the brightness of his raiment:
Cloaked in light and crowned with fire
He gazes down, without irony
As the birds gather
Waiting for my wounds to heal
So they can feast anew
Each night is a torment
As she haunts me
With the reflection of his glory:
Mantled in shadow and diademed with stars
She averts her gaze, without pity
As the birds scatter
Fighting over scraps of flesh
That do not sate their hunger
