Friday, July 13, 2012

Anagramming Myths

Her own voice comes to her over the airwaves
Ghostly, ethereal
A military tattoo punctuating
Every thought.
A warning, too late.
Hindsight 20-20 she is now to blame
For the whole world's affliction.

What deity adorned her thus?
To whom was she pandering?
Now the curse of Aaron is on her head, and all she did was
What any human would have.
The flesh is weak.
What did they expect?

Out of the pan, through the door
A nod, then a drop
And a scared girl cowers in the bottom of a pit.
The odor of her failure chokes her.
But where is the failure
In doing what is your nature?
What did she do to earn such spite?

A rape more insulting because
They say
She brought it on herself.
Draped in misery, she thinks of what
They did.
Even hope begins to wane
Nothing certain but chaos.

Who knew opening a box would be so melodramatic?