The Witch’s Pet

Bury me deep where the earth guards the dead
Where no one remembers the names of the lost
They try to mend every wound where
I bled
But strength found its roots in the chains and the cost
Every mask wears its teeth through a borrowed face
Hunting cracks in my voice, any fear they can trace
They will never learn whom
I would burn to defend
I will hide her in scorn till the right meets its end
Something lives in me, wakeful and wild
It hungers for ruin with the rage of a child
I fear not its fire, its hunger, its name
I fear