My Myth, Part 1: The Victim

The Furies have descended
Once more.
My mind slips unimpeded
Like the cursed stone of Sisyphus.
Madness and Rage
Are released like long dormant titans
Imprisoned by Olympian bolts.

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Sword in the Stone

What exists in me
I do not see in this World
And, so, I’ve been told
I act with reserve
Speak with flamboyance
This mask I wear
So deceiving
A miracle, of grand design
So They try
By their hands or mine
To show my face
But we fail everytime
This guise of mine
A sword kept in stone
Where is she
My once and future king
To pull me, to rule me
And build a golden castle
Upon this foundation I have laid