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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