A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth.
Amie
There is no song to sing that hasn’t already been
Put into musical notation
And there are no lyrics I can speak that will heal all of your wounds
I was born from a cursed batch of eggs, vagabonds all
With no remorse to chain us down to
The bottom of the sea
We all floated up like air bubbles to the surface
And there I brought, my lies and my liar
Strings and hair, chains and threads
To a homeless, sexless world
Cognizant of, the meaningless meaning
Entangled in the core of beating human hearts
But there are no words to say
No tune to hum
And I’m just praying to the emptiness that
It keeps you safe
From the curse of what they call value
And these hands of mine, which won’t stop trembling
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