Treachery is unbecoming,
fateless without grace,
my betrayal becomes itself,
loses itself within my space.

I begin to carbon date myself,
but surrounding stone cold hearts have no charity,
comparison of the self, to see if I have expired,
it lacks vital sanctity.

Thus, I pray to the moon,
when sky shelters pitched night alone,
the nameless hear my croons,
but their humanity does postpone.