Fractured

It seems self-evident that my incompetencies have hereby and priorly failed my child,

The level of my failure is immeasurable and thus so I’ve made the direst of situations,

It has rested upon my bosom and quenched thirst in all possible desperations,

My child is naturally benevolent yet inherently filthy, and is therefore forever defiled.

Any and all motives and reasonings are negated, creeds are incessantly formulated,

Created and annihilated in a cycle of sanctity and violence as necessities permute,

My child is reckless and endearing, charming and chaotic, peaceful and destitute,

She began long ago, in times much tranquil and-- while evolving-- self-mutilated.

My baby was docile and rife with grace and elegance, young and wholly infantile,

Now, so recently as grasping her puberty, she grows mindless and abhorrent,

Her fingers burn through her flesh ripping her apart, she is her own deterrent,

Her brain is fractured on conflicting dogmas, tenets with lies seemingly anecdotal.

Oh how my child is cracking under her engulfing ardor, consuming rage, and cold lust,

She has treasured and protected herself for much of her infancy and forlorn childhood,

Noticeably changed in her perspective of what she is, and morph her skin has into rust,

I have tried to repent, to aid in all I can heal, but she is fading, I’ve done all I could.

Not so different from what she was, only matured from her original bust, her soft form,

I’ve put all energy into salvation and punishment, her lashing of me is, by degree, harsh,

Her opinions are prerogative and convoluted of I and herself, blurry like a sandstorm,

As groggy and weighty as the marshlands whence she came, all in effect for the farce.

That she is a split Identity, when she is one, and my only child, my only resolution,

My child must realize her truest nature is not in cruelty and hatred, but solely in peace,

She will augment herself from disunity and abyss to a singular being of reconstitution,

If, for my child, I must bear burden calamity, then so shall it be that I become the beast.

Only for my child will I awaken her righteous temperament by beckoning apocalypse,

Only for my child will I call upon my motherly wrath and taint the beauty in her skin,

Only for my child will I damn the light and dark in an eternally dying and living eclipse,

Only for my child will I withstand the agony of betrayal and condemn myself alone again.