Cassandra Complex

It’s me, Cassandra.
And here is my city covered in embers.
And here is my staff, my prophet’s ribbons.
And here is my head full of uncertainty.

That’s right, I triumph.
The fire of my reason licks the sky.
Only the prophets that no one believes
Enjoy such shows;
Only those who got it wrong
So that everything happens as quickly
As if they hadn’t existed.

I remember now, distinctly those
who before me, stopped listening.
Their laughs choking.
Minds unraveling.
Children running towards their mothers.
I didn’t even know their names.
And this my song written on the sands
No one bothered to sing it

I was right.
But then, nothing comes of it.
And here is my blouse charred by fire.
And here is my prophetess hardware.
And here is my stony face.
A face that didn’t know it could be beautiful.


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