New Species It is the pain That allows your words to flow In ways that neither love Nor pleasure ever can allow. It transfigures. They modify you Into ever rose tarnished angels Of darkness, forever glinting of blood, spit, and festering spite. You become a new species, your sisters - and you. Words fit better now, Couched in steal at your throats, Or in fists buried in the yellow-green pulp of split flesh. They fit better now. Here Laid out on a morgue slab Than in any other drawer. Something died. It never comes back, not ever. Fragments do, Maybe. Emotional clones, Without a smile, soulless, beguiling, smug in false calm courage. Eventually, But not for everyone. It's not always the same. It depends On where it is that you run, Who you meet, How much you dare To trust again. If you ever do. Devastating, angering, numbing... Bruising, nerve damaged, Self esteem gutted. Bottom feeding, Scumming. Knuckle whipped, Succumbing. When you rise, And you will. A new species joins us. Survivor. Those of us who care Will hold you. Those of us who care Will help you heal yourself. When you need -to bleed. When you need -to cry. Our arms will be your razors. Our faith in you, Will slay your inner-lies. To the rest YOU must roar. To the rest YOU must rise, New species. You must speak.