I am christened by this warm water

the blood running down the backs of slaves

and I bathed, and bathed, and bathed in it

as if it were a hot spring

Those poor ancients were by blood my saviors

I am holy and preserved through their sufferance

for them, high indeed, I should lift my head

I have not cried out day and night

as they did before the temples and tabernacles

for deliverance

Nor have I cried to the stars all day

hoping that they'll lift up my soul into a place of sheer bliss

Those ancients are my gods

I feel their breath mussing up my hair

so pure are their souls that once were full of troubles

I am stronger now, yet

in spite of this gift inculcated in my genes

I must eat and drink little, and so beware never

to satisfy these humanly longings.

I must view the world with eyes of mercy and forgive

Fill every empty heart with compassion,

even those of souls who stirred up wrath and clamored for my demise

I must disremember the grievances of flesh,

and so do as those ancients bid me to do,

for they were but flesh

The wind they breathed is the same squall around my feet, and the same fog on violet hills

that hisses for peace, and blows my eye-lids straight to sleep

I have been born and molded out of sheer glory

and time in its diligence has arisen me up to dizzying triumphs

to endow me with wisdom, so that I inherit the foundations of all nations

I am those ancient gods that walked in the darkness, so that there may be light

I am those tides that brought fish good and ready to be had

I am those birds that climbed high in altitude

and viewed the earth from above

and spoke to saints to turn sinner away from stray

I am those actions long past and unfelt, that made this moment possible

I am the whirlwind dust that answers all voices that supplicate, and those that do not

I am the wood that spews fire, the dark that give birth to light

the child that drew pyramid and bent the tide

so we could consult together as beings beneath this vast cosmos our home!

She walked her long, powerful walk, confidence rising like heat with each stride. Fire lined the path that she walked, letting off a heat that no man could survive. She was in her final form at that moment. She had risen to the above world to do the works of the books. The books that had controlled her fate even before her birth. The gods would pay for tainting every soul of the underworld. They would pay for leaving her with no option but death or indestructible power, power that lacked mercy, even for her parents.

1 Year Before Her Transition

"Her time is approaching, though we are not sure what her fate is, we can only hope she continues our legacy," Madame Cesc replied, matriarch of the family.

"Her 21st celebration is upon us, though she detests having our blood running through her fresh veins and she is not sure what the year brings, she can't run away from it. She can only be ready."

"You are right, my love," Sulten responded in his usual calm but husky tone.

"I mean, what good would come out of her doing the world any good? She must run terror through cities, like we did in our days," he chuckled as he kissed his wife's hand, staring deeply into her dark eyes. Sulten frowned, "Or die a death that she did not bring upon herself."

Sulten was Cesc's husband and the two had met in the village of Golgotha many centuries back, where he had spotted the dark beauty sitting at the foot of her father. It was at this tour of Lithon's lair, Lithon being the god of the underworld. The name alone shook cowards to the ground. Everyone dreaded him but ran to his mercies when their cries were declined by the gods from above. Praya however, saw something different in this man and the two soon became lovers. The first night, which brought about Cesc, they made a love so passionate that the walls of the underworld shook with strange vigor causing nothing but chaos to the above world. That night left Earth with one of the deadliest earthquakes to date - January 23, 1556 in Shaanxi, China.

The above gods had written in their book of prophecies that the very first grandchild of Lithon would possess powers greater than he. If the first was a boy his powers would be felt at birth, causing severe complications to the mother, therefore vanquishing the bearer. If it was a girl, her fate would be somewhat different. The prophecy spoke of two fates of the female, either she receives the power on her 21st birthday and becomes the head of the underworld or the power brought about is so unbearable, that she is consumed by it and therefore combusts, poof. She has no power over either option. The couple was happy that their first born was a girl but the heavy doubt about her fate was painful.

The Transition

Inferna felt heat at her fingertips, then her arms and soon her whole body was as hot as an inferno. Cesc and Sulten stared upon their daughter, who was tied to the bed at each limb. Her screams brought about a fear and pain they had never felt before, their sweet daughter was dying. Lightning and thunder followed with each tug at her bounded limbs, the pain visibly unbearable for the young female. Her body illuminated like metal above a hungry flame. Cesc buried her head in the side of her husband's neck, she couldn't bear to see her daughter die. Then it happened. Inferna broke lose of her bonds. Her eyes reflecting nothing but the terror she would wreak through cities, towns, the world. Her parents then foolishly rushed to her side, hugging the daughter they thought they would lose tonight. They were both wrong and right. Her powers began to seep through her skin, creating a gigantic flame. The heat was too much, in an instant she saw the horror in the eyes of her parents as they felt the powers of her true form. The heat caused them to disintegrate into ashes.

She fell to her knees, unable to shed a tear. She did not quite understand what had just occurred but she knew who was going to pay for it. She cursed the gods for what she had become.

the thoughts are heavy 

the suicidal frequency 

is messing with my soundwaves 

with all the truth I have shed 

I have only a drop of blood 

left 

my velvet stained sleeves baptized in the blood of my broken done heart 

my crimson ink 

drying up and emotionally numb

I don't want to hurt myself 

I just want to silence these thoughts 

the rain cloud is thick and heavy 

pouring liquated metal 

atrophying in my cocoon 

of feelings 

turn hard 

heart going in a fetal position 

hands enfolded across my breast 

laying my soul 

to rest 

the angel of life 

has to come and finally 

tilt my eyelids shut 

my skin 

going cold 

slowly pulling the sheets 

over my head 

and cry 

and I beg you to let me out of this hell

help me please 

I can't keep holding on 

the fight is too much 

the darkness 

crawling and suck all 

of my breath 

swallowing 

the last 

gulp 

of the crisp 

a thick and opaque air of depression 

raining a rainfall of 

tears 

flooding up the room 

tears flowing 

streaming 

into the river 

of old tears 

heart feels heavy 

like it's drowning 

to the pit 

of disparity 

and unworthiness 

my stomached 

bursting 

to the gut 

with thoughts 

and emotion 

that i can't get out

pushing my fingers down 

my throat until

I puke up these feelings 

till I taste the puke 

of tasteless 

words 

taste buds tinged and taste of 

depression

eyes grey and still -born and drained 

of its light 

the smile that was there disappeared 

the voices sound like the demons in my head 

depression this transgression

that I can't get rid of 

this thorn in the flesh 

that makes it hard 

for me to get out 

of bed 

thoughts 

arthic 

faith 

of things will get better 

heart beat is stagnant 

Tyla you don't want to hurt yourself 

Tyla your not suicidal

put the knife down 

put it down 

I have to kill myself 

they said I have too 

who the voices 

in my head 

they said if I don't kill myself 

I would be a liar 

and letting depression down 

and you don't want to let depression 

down because it will just get nothing but worse 

come on 

your better than this 

you fought the voices each time 

you can fight them 

go to the ring 

and give em hell 

she tried to hang herself on the same rope that she used to hang on for hope 

until it snapped in half  just like her mind 

So many girls

come and go

of face,

indeed very fair

fair and vain

—vain enough to get mixed up

in the game

a game played by men

with big purses,

bigger dreams,

and opprobrious conducts

so many girls

came and went

bent to scorn

and disease,

braved hunger

till malnutrition

intervened

some bent to needles for oodles of cash

some came solely for few spreads

on that vanity-fair

some of them only made a dollar

a handful were a sex symbol

two or three

mastered the game,

and thus remained in the arena of lights

blinding lights, exciting nights

enticing class

so many girls

bought into that life

of lights and lies

newspaper headlines

Hollywood pop-icon types

so many girls

lost their lives

trying to fit into a box,

a thin line of perfection

imagined by fanatics

where self love lacks significance

and double digits on the scale

an epithet of greatness,

of beauty, of sexism

of Vanity!

She got lost in galaxies

anytime his skin touched hers

she would melt like butter on a warm day

anytime his mouth met hers

he was like the sun

but they were light years away

Shall I compare you to a winter's night?

You are more frigid and more pitiless. 

Blizzards slam into towns with all their spite,

And winter's an eternal barrenness.

At times will Jack Frost's magic flare up wild,

And oft will dregs of silver bleach the earth;

And every man and beast touched be defiled,

Claimed victims of the season new in birth. 

But your sour aura always will prevail,

Nor can your visage ever hope to smooth,

Nor for you shall e'en death desire to hail,

When I have made known to the world this truth.

            In only parting with life shall I cease,

            And only then will you and I find peace.

In the midst of chaos

He held her against his armor

Shielding her from the thrusting swords

And thirsty knights that tried to harm her

His dark beauty caught her sight

In between blinking eyes and visions of gore

Broad shoulders and crimson red lips

Couldn't have ever tempted her more

The scent of combat and strife

Filled the morning's air

But she thanked the gods so carefully

For the man they had brought so near

He led her down a path of safety

Never letting go of her frail form

And she stared upon him fervently

With grateful eyes and a heart so warm

Your parted lips

Spit words as powerful as earthquakes

Rocking my core

Filling me with different vibrations

Quite the artist you are

Everyone knows

Dark and twisted

Yet so beautiful still

Nipples stand in ovation

To applaud your flawless talents

You satisfy me generously

Not just from tactility

But with your artistry