Before you conquered worlds, defeated memory's ranks,
Deployed the rains of hell to fight your fight;
Before you battled ice and heat, left gods outflanked,
Left terrified the terrors of the night,
You must have sliced your soul, let spirit bleed,
Pierced innocence, cut horse-skin for your heart.
The needs of war require the death of need,
The loss of loss, and grief for grief, to start.
My trauma leaves me little skill, but lust
And shameless scorn for those who've shut me down.
Pathetic tears can't fashion life from dust;
What lesson now can sun draw out from stone?
Though by my age you'd played the thief to God,Time waits. I'll purple history with my blood.