The gathering fragile tides of pride seeking shelter,
I fear not what I see.
The echoes among declining visions traumatized me,
pains stains must this be.
Hearing the howling wolf’s cries beneath the blue moon,
singing this death tune.
The bitter taste of the herbs you fed me, you denied me,
when you deprived me.
Your lies quenching lips spewing from a serpents tongue,
this wrong you’ve done.
Barren this deceitful rotting waste of cruelty from thy hand,
hostilities rush! my disgust.
Now enraged from sorrow, dreadful of the ridicule to follow,
bearing the cross I must swallow.