buried in bloodcurdling silence
once loud, hurdling
my senses shrouded, slipping
drip in compliance
sickly slow, sticky
pick me a flower
mask the violence
pulled apart by the crowd
whose power parries defiance
hold the heart dipped in wax
carried limp to the casket
mud fertile, and my hints
clouded, just out of grasp
flip the trick
chipped gold
cold reliance unfolds
they boldly cower to ask
and are told its a science

Penned by my hand on the 21st of Glacian, in the year 816 AF.