• For as then, of forth,
    this rotted tree,
    carries for me, gentle fruit of my sorrow.
    Bled tears, scarred masks,
    of hope beyond the horizon,
    lie instead atop remains,
    of a charred and strangled boy.
    Amongst its hollow cavern,
    a desolate room,
    for the lonely gaze of my lover surround it.
    Yet my own blinded thoughts do nothing for her still,
    and in night, final bells ring proudly for my loss.
    For these corpses of ours rise weary from the ground,
    to feast on the flesh of whom I once truly loved.
    But from the ground these creatures came,
    and to the ground these creatures go,
    with nothing yet the head,
    of my one true fallen love.