The Girl Who Pulled The Levers

I fell from the sky with a mark on my name, metal bones of the Ark still caged in my veins. A student of scars, I stitched what I could, learned that surviving can murder the good. Mountains with monsters that looked just like me, I opened the door and drowned us in mercy— not mercy at all, just turning a key, and every night it turns back inside me. Star-born judges, don’t weigh me with light— you never bled through our endless nights. Call it a test; I call it a theft, you measure a soul by what’s cruelly left. If this is your heaven, keep your crown; I’ll carry the cost and lay it down. They named me a ghost, a queen of the dead, alliances inked in the things never said. I loved and I lost in the smoke of a throne, a candle went out and I hardened to stone. I drew a black line where childhood had been, told my own heart not to speak up again. Every choice: a battlefield’s breath, every mercy: another kind of death. Star-born judges, don’t weigh me with light— you never bled through our endless nights. Call it a test; I call it a theft, you measure a soul by what’s cruelly left. If this is your heaven, keep your crown; I’ll carry the cost and lay it down. A city of lies made of sugar and code, I cut the cord and watched it explode. Peace without pain is a cage with a hymn; freedom means wearing the bruise on your skin. The fire came twice and salted the ground, I painted my blood so the sun wouldn’t drown. Six winters of static, then one word—“Mom”— I built us a world out of ash and alarm. Sanctum wore smiles with a thief in each face, I bargained with gods of a counterfeit grace. To keep my child I shattered a star— I live with that fracture wherever we are. Star-born judges, don’t weigh me with light— you never bled through our endless nights. Call it a test; I call it a theft, you measure a soul by what’s cruelly left. If this is your heaven, keep your crown; I’ll carry the cost and lay it down. Forgive me, brother, I emptied the dawn; one final betrayal so she could go on. I wear the blame like armor and brand, the trigger still echoes inside my hand. You came in a shape that I needed to trust, wearing the face I still keep in my chest. You spoke about worth as if war is a quiz— what do you know of the math that this is? I ended a prophet to spare us the chain, you called it failure and measured our pain. Then those I love stepped back from your sea, chose dust over light so I wouldn’t be lonely. Star-born judges, unmake your rite— we’re not your riddle, we’re choosing the fight. Keep your ascension, keep your white fire; I’ll stay human, flawed and entire. If love is a sentence, I’ll serve it true; my people are earth, and I am too. My daughter walks where I cannot follow, I plant her name in tomorrow’s hollow. No wings, no throne, just breath and ground— I live with the weight, and still, I’m found.