Aching Horns by Imogen L. Smiley
The oracles foretold the death of the universe,
Being at the hands of fire.
Until my horns were stained black with soot
An ombre of ashen wounds;
I understood they had seen my future.
The charred horns of rams hang in museums;
Our shortcomings advertised in back alleys
And our molten glory calcified in glass and gold.
Our lives are short; born with gasoline in our veins,
For when we are cut too deep, and finally combust.
Imogen. L. Smiley (she/her) is a twenty-three-year-old writer from Essex, UK. She has anxiety, depression and an endless love of dogs, especially big ones! You can support her by following her on Twitter and Instagram at @Imogen_L_Smiley.