Taurus

Asterion
Scuzzbucket
Published in
1 min readSep 14, 2022
The minotaur’s rest

Do I want to know? If who my father and mother made
is a reflection — crystal clear — of their genetic failings?
If I was mistaken about the gods, and I’ve been punished?
For being weak, chaos’ fountain. A person upside-down.

Agitated and cautious is not who your friends want. The one
your pets will choose. A fragment, a shard, of a crystallised being.

Apprehensive songs, and folklore. Who’ll sing about the pain
of those avenged by vengeful heroes? The shards scattered, reflect
the point of a broken mountain. But enough self-indulgence.

Equalized.

I nourish my body away from pain, however empty and ready the
food is. Questioning the underlying meaning of my survival never brings
any immediate good: I still question — posed awkwardly, looming on the reflective surface — but I try to take care of my dental health. Try: a trial.

It is time to get out of here, for however long possible. For shame was with me, but I can’t lead it to myself. There shall be a time to better this, to
sing it, to dance with it; for now, I just roll with it: out, out these concrete
sturdy walls.

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