The Tears of the Ungrateful

The hand of bitterness icy cold
Its grip touches and sears my skin
In the decaying light of dawn
So prophetic our dreams and thoughts
That taste so sweet in the distance
Darkness burns the fire within
Would that we might taste of our dreams
Or breathe in the eyes of the night
The winds that speak in whispers
Are lifeless and tear at my vision
I should fall to the earth
Deep into rivers of sorrow
That flow about at my feet
They shall weep the tears of the ungrateful
Mourning their own deaths
Crawling woefully into their graves
Our words will fade in the air
The night shall embrace her children
Forever we shall weep for the day.

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