Stuck in this nightmare again
crying like a dying wren...

Hints of you ache in my vision,
why can I only see your shadow...

A young girl sits at the end of a table,
eating alone, not a common fable...

Surrounded by black darker than worldly possible,
I am caught in deep sleep’s comforting...

In a world where nothing is heard above a whisper,
and men sleep and dream idly beside ones sister...

It started with a small chill in the air,
that cold bleak February day...

A young man of blue eyes sits there,
upon the top of the gold-plated stair...

Histories past define our future,
in the course of distant memory...

Look deep inside your thoughts,
in places I cannot hear or speak...

When death is like a wooden arrow,
a swift and sleek barrel and blow...

Where tears stream and purge dry cheeks,
and hate runs ramped in dark streaks...

Words flourish in the venom of deceit,
Lies roll off swift tongues like water trickles...