My last word of you was a summer’s seppuku,
The touching of an unknown soul.
As always love chased in life of everything:
Sing! The burning blade!
What more to grasp for,
Too late the tears or the fight.
Deadlings from the beginning to the end, who knew?
Rotting flesh & loose heads on pole,
Under a cherry tree steel to stomach shade.
The ships have all sailed,
War no long of more.
Loose & gone all of my might,
Before me lies the slain, the lost, what left to slew -
Inserted my tanto to hole…