Song of gross lies,
swift and dark
as stone spirals on field
and field of crimson,
and I the thorns.
Betray all within.
Bane of lovers.
The end of all friends.
No ice breath for scorched skin,
unlocking no truth.
Only there are lies,
missaid half sooths,
and visions of doom.
A struggling beat,
and another again.
The breath of all war
that ever was.
If my eyes would dim
to the kaleidoscope face,
to the murmur of the wishless.
Be trodden under,
and my soul the blade
and my eyes the flame.