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In days of revolt
I too carried a torch
And swung at my arrows

But time is ruthless
And heals nothing

The shrieking ruin
Of a hard winter’s kiss
Takes forever more summers
To mend

Now the snow just as might lay
Cloaking the remains
Shrouding the wounds
And sores
Of losses and fatigue
With pure, white
Amnesia

For what the sun uncovers
By its taunting rays
Are like swords to the lies
My life and dreams
However nightmarish
Are built upon

Rather it lay cold and dead
Than revealed in all
Its necrotic splendour

The price to pay
In facing failure

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