Quiet, Gone
The slayer of silence, composer of woeful psalms,
Grasps me with shrieking tongues of fallen angels.
And in grave adorned with wilted swords
I lay with corpses' babels and lilts of Requ'em songs.
Silence is gone.
Gilded horns blast the quiet with whispers of my wrongs.
And so I water the ground with tears
And feed the maggots songs.
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