As I look all around me,

I think of everything happening

and weep; I thought I was free,

but it seems I am returning;

to the thing painful to be,

made of emotion constantly turning.

A creature  born of ash, post-flame,

This thing inside me, heavily came,

It is my burden, my crystal sorrow

that I wear, long to the morrow.

And filled with dread am I

listening to whispering a going by

of lost friendships, broken promises

forged in wars of no compromises.