My lips are married to lies
I can bloom words that harm
like black fruit

Oh God, am I some witch?
Is my mouth a strange cauldron,
where only poison gathers?

I have predicted their disease
I have whispered of their ruin
And it all has become true

I have falsely kissed their flowing veins
And I have caressed them with feverish stories
All to hide my own sickness

Like a daughter of Egypt
I cling to this horrible magic
Finding ecstasy in the depths of their grief