More

Written by: Xavier Keough

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