Max Fomitchev-Zamilov | Poetry and Prose

Максим Фомичёв-Замилов | Поэзия и проза

Insanity grips me within –
I’m melting like ice in the sun.
I cannot attempt to begin
To fathom that I am the One.

How can I be chosen by God
To carry this blinding flame
When I’m imperfect and flawed?
I’m deeply obsessed and insane!

Untamed and unkempt like a beast
I’m shoveling stars at the moon!
Unable to fight or resist
I’m beaten, betrayed and marooned.

I screech like an owl, and I claw
My heart from the prism of my chest.
Emotions are painful and raw
And perfectly cruel at best.

I shave off my hair and skin –
My bones are but howling flutes!
I pay to atone for my sins,
These words are my final salute.

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