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.