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Totem Skin
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Always Ire
She looks at him and stands aghast,
Their actions bear a stark contrast
through recklessness he leaves her scorned;
companions left by death adorned
At every turn his words send chills
At every chance he serves his will
Her crumbled pride in ruins lie,
senses her end, it's very nigh
Picks up the spills come of his wrack;
The bones she carry on her back
She cares not what he had her told
She wears her losses proud and bold
Her throne besieged with broken troth
as he claims master of them both
He underplays this potent deceit
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Wanton violence
Always ire
Wanton violence
Always ire
A whisper heard from far and wide
Tells faintly of a broken pride
In solitude her doors are shut
His will be done no matter what
And he tries to make her desist
Wrecks her body to fit with his
He takes her within his hands,
liquids pouring from her glands.
Steadily his blows descend,
She may never breath again
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