Oh how the blades of deceit shred caring souls.
A year measured four seems vain now in thought.
Riddles once pondered peacefully have become an agonizing
flow, while the answers once trusted appear with nowhere to go.
Love still patrols yielding no life, yet beneath the cold veil
its sleeps with pity and strife.
Forever once spoken, once known in the heart.
Time now is measured only, by time apart.
Beseeched and rekindled beneath the cold veil,
one day he'll return in search of the deceit.