If I could strike at one, I'd strike at thee
I'd end the tyranny of measured threads
I'd end the cruelty of bitter ends
I'd end these things that bind us, and be free.
And how indeed they bind us. Always there,
These meticulously measured little pains,
These wispy, dark, and inconsistent chains
Woven into one another with such care.
Which I have borne reluctantly. No more!
I refuse the poisoned warmth of your embrace.
I refuse the hope---how false!---that lights your face.
I refuse to be corrupted by Time's whore.
But the will is not enough, when you are trod
Upon by cruel and nonexistent Gods.
New poem, obviously. I really should post more of the things I write here.
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