Your words still my blood I am empty. A hollow shell of spirit, Once, Drew fire into my lungs And exhaled with great joy The hope of love. The faith in your divine. A withered knight falling again And again upon the sword Beg mercy to escape the agony of this deed Compounded misdeeds, Now seem Trifle. As the blood hardens thick In veins Refusing to release Upon the steel And guarantee Of An eternal Torment.