As I look all around me,
I think of everything happening
and weep; I thought I was free,
but it seems I am returning;
to the thing painful to be,
made of emotion constantly turning.
A creature born of ash, post-flame,
This thing inside me, heavily came,
It is my burden, my crystal sorrow
that I wear, long to the morrow.
And filled with dread am I
listening to whispering a going by
of lost friendships, broken promises
forged in wars of no compromises.