Persephone - Nevaeh M. Castro

I feed on pomegranate seeds,

leaving my words bitter and bloody.

Unable to be washed clean. 

 

Immortal in my tragedy. 

A child of the weeds; 

who hit her peek at seventeen. 

 

How it follows me like the black

dog! Who am I to deny? 

After all, are we not all hungry? 

 

Hades laughs with the wrath of a

king. In nightmares, he haunts me,

recurring. 

 

Scratching at the walls, 

craving the sway of the reeds.

Grief sits in my chest,

haunting. 

 

Girlhood crushed by three seeds,

Mother, can you still love me, am

I still a growing thing?