His words snapped at my skin
Crackling flames, fizzling each syllable
He told me it was for my own good
To be broken
Bent out of shape, and my name
Scrap wood for his tongue
He burned me over and over
Telling me all the great cities burn
And my cathedral needed to be discarded
Rebuilt into his beliefs
When i told him
This isn’t a confessional but my body
He told me, he owned it, manifest destiny
I tore up his picture, and he screamed heresy
I told him, funny thing
All belief systems are reconstructed at some point in history
And his name was no different
Like Nero, I watched him burn
Poetic Trials 