When she was very young
younger than the reborn
who climb out of shell
lick themselves shellac
for fear of bombs
before those days
in a cradle among men
the oracle told her
you are thursdays child
doomed it seems to go far
the road will not always be there
to see among weeds
at times
crows will fly down
try to peck out your eyes
at times
the sun will bake you still
in mid-stride
at times
your heart will be shredded
and make a good meal
on desert floor
for pudding you will bake yourself soft
open up your latched doors
for night to sweep clean
such your journey will seem
endless and sharp
like climbing through thorns
touching your blood
as it writes out the will
fate has bequeathed those
unable to stand still
every once in a while
a friend will offer you shelter
sit you near to the harth
bandage your hurt
do not forget
those who protesth loudest
are often spliced souls
seeking revenge like tempting
mirage beckons hungry traveler
however much you may seek
this gentle solace
it comes with a price
take off the journey and inherit
their destruction
better you stay on the road
act as you are treated
for death in rehearsal
makes soldiers of the acursed
soon they will sink into sand
you will find yourself
with those who remain
holding your hand
steady in the walk