Lies

Now sing a song of fallen stars,

of burning flesh and smoke-stained skies.

Look to find mine unseen scars,

’neath this threadbare cloak of lies.

Tell just the truth, ’tis easy, they say.

But they know not my pitiful life.

If I told the truth, I’d be dead in a day;

they’d speak ill of me to the last fife.

Watcher, send not Thy mercy to me,

for I deserve no compassion.

I knew my evil and I left it be;

from Thy hand I shall take my ration.

I have no right to ask for more.

I shall selfishly deny myself pleasure.

I shall take not one agony but four,

or more if it be at Thy leisure.

I knew my evil, and here I stand,

questioning the terms of my solemn oath—aye,

for he is by look and by word no man,

thus not covered for by the vow that so quoth I.

Yet reveal this I must not,

for I fear that my touch brings danger.

I suspect I am of cursed matter wrought,

misfortune to friend and to stranger.

So sing a song of fallen stars,

of burning flesh and smoke-stained skies.

Look to find mine unseen scars,

’neath this threadbare cloak of lies.

The End

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