A cold comfort, found in the dark
New is the whole, old are the parts
A tapestry made from gruesome remains,
To the Patchwork Queen goes my heart
Twisted and unjust, they called my thesis
Yet the graveyard held answers
In so many pieces
I had the vision to make it so
Plus thread and needle to have you sewn
Overhead, the moon was but a sliver
With stealth and haste,
To the laboratory you were delivered
Complete at last, you cut a devilish figure
“She lives!" I cried, before you cut free my liver
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The dead are a greedy, hungry kind
Eager to consume us, body and mind
My assistant ran, forsaking prestige
I clung onto life, having mistaken what was
For what could be
I missed the life we had together
All of a sudden, every ‘maybe’ turned to ‘never’
You bear your teeth, and snarl with hunger
I must return you to the grave, before I, too, am pulled under
My science was dark, but was it truly so mad?
What would you give
For the best times you’ve had?
Change comes like the blowing of the wind
You either stiffen and break, or flex and bend
Some wounds you may fix
But can never mend
