Kiran Speaks

They call him the Son of God,
my twin, with light in his eyes,
hair falling in luscious golden locks
around his beaming, majestic face;
his skin exudes sunlight
and his lips let out tendrils of warmth;
a white hot kiss in the midst of winter’s wrath.

But I, on the other hand
Oh I, oh I, oh i...

They call me the Devil’s Daughter;
the wretch that lurks in the night’s hours,
my heart a frozen castle of ice
sustained on the remnants of your soul.
They say I’m too harsh, too cold,
too unfeeling,
they see me choose to be alone,
occasionally, sinking my venemous teeth
in anyone who gets too close.

At least that’s what they say.

He’s their Son of God
but I’m their beast who feeds on life,
He’s from thou holy Father,
and I am his estranged, vile wife.
He talks like me, he walks like me,
he even looks like me,
but I’m the curse.
His sins are my sins,
yet my sacrifice is his nobility,
his love is the purest luxury,
while mine is a forsaken duty.