Mists crawl forward in great tendrils
Smothering the sour pallor of morning
Alone I wander an emptied husk of someone I've never known
A throat that tastes smoke
A heart that doesn't beat beneath thin dry flesh
Everything is a hollow echo of itself
Beyond the reach of gods false and true
Nothing remains real and these words I'll carry to my grave
Are forever singing such a curse
What have you done
Two fawns lay slain at the hand of their mother
Her who you despised
