Its been so long since we last met,
the forest floor has become our home,
How can we live when our blood's been let,
and is just another chapter in Love's tome?
Is this really what is left,
of old feathers that have been shed?
My heart has been part of the theft,
you've left me dying upon my bed.
What am I, a substitution?
I will be no part of your solution.
I will not give in to the illusion,
nor wrap myself in your confusion.
Don't cry for help,
for I'll watch you burn,
I'll hear your yelp,
and keep not your urn.
To me do you now turn?
Waste not your time little leaf,
though for me you now yearn.
Put your sword in its sheath,
and let my coffin alone.
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