My Mother Osiris

The breath of angels illuminate my path
Their soft trickling voices guide an absent soul towards redemption's end
Yet her scars paint a different story, for my beloved walks among a frayed path
in which she has submitted to the vast miasma of weeping stars
I witness as faint wisps of light shimmer beyond the veins of fresh autumn trees and cascade upon her mangled pieces
Deep painted shadows decorated the halls
Her blood ran thick and sweet as honey
The colorless expression drew frozen across her face
Swelling the deep faint expressions of rage crackling against the confines of her heart
Threading the edges between contempt and insanity
Indistinguishable between a porcelain mask and cold white flesh
A soul which bore no further remorse for the living
The lazy crackling lines rampantly drove underneath the contours of her face
The sight of decaying blue skin flushed all light of hope within the empty confines of its horrid image
Her body wore a thick blanket of fresh loose dirt
As if to enchant others with a final shard of absent dignity and grace to a most decrepit husk of God's creation
Flaunting the dirt of a shallow grave as a queen wears a heavy golden crown
Looking to emanate an aura of elegance and divinity, even when rotting among insects
Yet, i find it still, a thing of beauty