Transmutation of the Soul.

I. Flower.

Agony blooms in redolence;
there are roots at the base of my throat.
I choke on lilies; roses smell of blood.

II. Dream.

I sleep; misery wades through me like
murky waters through shadow.

I falter; my body is a martyr of itself;

a screaming tempest behind the calm of
a zephyr as night ferries my
wayward agony.

III. Morning.

I perish; I’m a snake shedding it's skin.
I rise with heaven’s eye revealing the
golden jewels of my scars!

My insides are warmed sands;
my heart an oasis!