I cut the chords from my throat,
Presenting them as a
Gift in homage to the
Gods of the citidel, burying my
Resentment with the
Bones of my ancestors.
I ripped the nerves from my face,
Offering my apathy to the
Wraiths that would prey on the
Bitterness of mute lamentation .
I tore the veins from my arm,
Freeing the hidden
Tears that flowed like a
Creek over my
Wrist and into silver phial.
I dipped my quill in the phial
And let the
Shadows hear the
Sound of my voice.
©Nathan A. Brock
Dec 1, 2024
Dec 1, 2024 at 1:27 PM UTC
I cut the chords from my throat,
Presenting them as a
Gift in homage to the
Gods of the citidel, burying my
Resentment with the
Bones of my ancestors.
I ripped the nerves from my face,
Offering my apathy to the
Wraiths that would prey on the
Bitterness of mute lamentation .
I tore the veins from my arm,
Freeing the hidden
Tears that flowed like a
Creek over my
Wrist and into silver phial.
I dipped my quill in the phial
And let the
Shadows hear the
Sound of my voice.
©Nathan A. Brock
Repost from 2018. Edited and reformatted
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