Embittered
In winters
And withering prose
As I’ve wept it alone
In a tomb
Made of stone
Though heroics
Don’t show it
They mask
And aglow it
In written hubristic
Indulgence’s misfit
Admissions of guilt
It so deftly
Elicits
Consistent in
Wistfully
Weathering storms
For the other-side’s sun
And the heart that it warms