To the Saints

may I be

freezing water

splashed into the faces

of the “righteous”

who put me on trial

when my voice

was weak

when my mind

was dying

when the fire

was engulfing

everything beautiful

in my life

not believing

my terror

for reasons

beyond me

for why would

I ever lie

about my life

falling to pieces

in front of

my very eyes?

A canary

in a coal mine,

my fall

cries from the

toxins emanating

from their dead

decaying

hearts of “gold”

those “saints” who

when I asked

for their voice

ignored me

as I watched

my world

crumble before me

my “saviors”

abandoning me

at the mouth

of a labyrinth

I knew

I could not navigate

my knees already buckling

under my own weight

at the entrance

left to wither away

day by day

losing a piece

of myself

each time

the sun rose

realizing

all I could do

was to try

to gracefully

fall apart