---

Oh, how these spires claw azure

their design so beautiful, polished, gleaming

yet the underbelly is crusted in dried blood

at which they chip away

flaking and softening with a monotonous rain

I can see, can feel, how it obscures

the undue thorns of the manacled

Not to be absolved of torment

But to merely bury the scars

so, this appearance may shine and shine it does

Starry-eyed staring beyond the sickness

Casting doubt aside to live undignified

Forever framed by somber woe and disgust

for (our) crushing weakness