Innate

Khaos, the goddess above the stars,
Mother, please tell me, why?
I carry your name, born on your date.
This fate of mine, burns in scars.

Achievements ashen,
Regression ravages my soul.
Worse I grow each passing day.
Lady of the storms, why this dismay?

Even the withering roses wilt,
When I cherish, when I adore,
This universe of yours ensures,
My soul faces endless gore.

The week, your dates fall once more.
It was the first of your dates,
This story of mine began. Once more,
This year, the incrementing day,
Anchors on the last of your dates.
Could I, ask for a rewritten fate?