It is unforgiving
I swear in its eyes
I shrink from its blows
They rain, and I stand still strong
I'm brave yet, but for how long?

I bleed for my generosity
The deeds sending sharpened chains
To rip and rend my skin, my mind
I can heal, though tissue scars
I can continue, but how far?

My blood sours to many tongues
To those who don't suckle my wounds
My words melt or bend to blades
My mind translated, death to touch
I speak still again, but how much?

My skin begins to boil
Acid hairs writhe with razor eyes
It seems I can inflict as I please
My blood caustic as I shed my skins
I've hide left, but how thin?

I'll lay down to rest, some day
Be it death, or sleep for sanctuary
Or a comatose fade to infinity
I will rest, and stand again strong
I will rest, but for how long?

Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Phaestian, in the year 330 AF.