ángelos

dont shoot the messenger

or shred up your taxes

the truth still lives

the debt is still owed 

after all the evidence is burned 

churned to ashes

the smell of rotting skin

and paper thin scraps

linger in the air 

like the shame you refuse 

to claim as your own

spirals in the wind 

whispering the truth 

you are not willing to name

the child of your sins

immaculately conceived

breathes despite honesty

she lies in your womb

feeding upon your secrets

as it grows harder to hide

the bulging nature of truth

pregnant with pride

until betrayal shows

what the body knows