Devil's Daughter

As the Devil’s daughter,

My rage is biblical.

Not only must I suffer

the cruelty of my own father,

but his father,

our mutual creator’s.

I rid myself of his surname

not too long ago,

yet his anger resides

in my eyes -

his spirit lingers

in my curling fists,

always ready to throw a punch.

I hear his words

caught in my throat

like venom waiting to spit.

Is this the fate to which I am bound?

Am I destined to wallow

in this pit of despair

centered in the forest

where all creatures can look down upon me,

judgment and prejudice

drawn across their faces?

Will I dig myself deeper,

extending the veins of cruelty

to everything I touch?

Will this pit become more

than a cell

and evolve into something

more akin to a home?

Is there any hope

of me crawling out,

clinging to roots and rocks,

in order to find a more nurturing place to live?

I don’t know.

All I know is

that the walls of this pit

are decorated with

blood and bones,

reminding me of

the destructive nature that comes

with being the

devil’s daughter