It hath been many a moon since my spirit soared
For rhyme and rhythm refuse to call me lord.
That river of words that never ceased to flow
Now lie frozen and still in its blanket of snow.
In this winter of lies, only the winds dare howl.
Yes, it wails of its secrets; a darkness most foul.
It whispers of a promise in summer once made.
A promise betrayed when fair weather hath fade.
And the frost has but bitterly bitten my lips.
Sewing it shut as it steals all my quips.
While sealing the secrets in a prison of ice
The sword I once wielded lie webbed in the lies.
I look but I’m blinded by snow all around.
I cry out for help but I can’t make a sound.
Lost hope in the ice, my eyes fail to see
And I lost my voice when I lied to thee.