Your mother killed the oracle, and everyone who knew
"Your daughter will bear a son who one day will kill you."
Like King Acrisius, she made a room with no view
To seal you away, lest the prophecy come true.
Overnight, I fed your guards to a field of corpses.
Your mother was mortified when I breached the fortress.
Starstruck, I kissed the hand of a demon sorceress.
Against my own darkness, which of us is more poisonous?
I wanted to get inside your bed, not your head.
You know why I'm haunted, you know why I'm dead.
What kept you alive in that brass tower?
What was your hope, your bedrock of faith?
That narrow splice of light that measured the hours,
Was that your source of power? Did it keep you safe?
That tower was meant to kill your will to fight.
What did you find in a single sliver of light?
I wanted to get inside your bed, not your head.
You know why I'm haunted, you know why I'm dead.
I wanted to get inside your bed, not your head.
Your God of Sleep is not so easily dissected.
She didn't have to kill you, just continually injure.
She would've wished you dead, or wished you a spinster.
When you introduced the child, you smiled and said
"This is my son, I have named him Avenger."
How did you survive in that wooden boat?
What guided you and young Avenger on the seas?
What guided young Avenger to the Gorgon's throat,
Then back to Seriphos, with its warmer degrees,
To make statues of Acrisius and Polydectes?
What guided you both to your destinies?
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