A thousand whispering words
With an accusation in each syllable
Damning my own actions
From my minds inner garden
A thousand empty promises of
Immortality and power, each one
Delivered in black feathers
Made of youth and hope
Countless lies ringing hollow
In my ear, yet each
As true as the one that came
Before sharper than the last
A single peeling permanence
That defied each countless whisper
That power passes from one to another
The youth is not my right
