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Am I nothing more Than an ominous date A wisp of genetic wonder A curse of conscious fate Behold the burden Nestled in newborn hair Innocent eyes etched Into life's coarse lair Is there nothing more Than this tactile plight Torn tears of birth’s bliss My fingers weep sight Is she nothing more Than death’s deciduous seed Baptized by superstition Comfort’s posthumous need Who will hold her When my embers grow cold The walls of winter creep closer And the silence grows bold What have I done This curse that I share Too buried to breathe Too naked to bare How can I tell her Forever stalks our door That there is no tomorrow For life is nothing more