---

Flesh on two presented as kin,
yet the closeness you feel is to fire.
The rope, it is known to you, and it calls you brother.

A brand for you,
a blade or whip.
An eruption,
we will know you from the sound.

Your weakness is written there,
it colors a ceiling
and tile,
a room that is painted in failure.

Don't feel sorrow,
for you were born of this,
It is unworthy of guilt,
but understanding.

I can help you to understand
that you could never be what this world needs,
and that the only nobility to be found
is in dying as quietly as you have lived.
Die like you lived.

No one wishes you to suffer,
for we don't feel enough for you to mind.
A fallen motive curls to find a final breath,
and you may lay beside it.

The suffering of flame
that has always burned tired and cold.
Remember when I spoke to you:
it was a quake and a rapture.
Remember how it tore; you can never forget.

Flesh on two presented as kin,
yet the closeness you feel is to fire.
The rope, it is known to you, and it calls you brother.

Your weakness is written there,
it colors a ceiling
and tile,
a room that is painted in failure.

Don't feel sorrow, for you were born of this.
It is unworthy of guilt,
that you could never be what this world needs.

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