Born into mother's breathless arms with a story of guilt wrapped around my bloodshot eyes and hideous horns- at least dad calls them that.
He threw spears of hate into those eyes as he clung to his wife I'd just murdered, or maybe my birth did.
I was an orphan with a father who saw me as the opposite ghost he'd rather live with.
What was I expecting anyway?
I wasn't gorgeous or remarkable.
I wasn't my mum.
I was a scoff for the name.
Too hated to be embraced by any besides me.
Broken wings are sad,
But aggrieved wings adorned with colors that look like scars can't dare to fly.
A morning, the only glorious one I ever had as an adult, I came across a Polaroid of mum.
She was soaring high in the Ataskka forest and I made that picture my mission.
I found the forest and nature has a way of nourishing beauty without fail.
Gorgeous leaves and celestial petals...
I basked in it...
Something began to rise from me,
Above the ground and nearing the skies, I shed a tear as I felt closer to mum and nature.
How could I have known I had this in me?
The universe never gave me a rainbow that spelt my name.
But this moment was nothing earthly words could amount to.
Mum called me Hyacinth and I'll live the rest of my days trying to blossom.