A treaty signed, and burned at last,
In cruel portrayals of winters past.
I shuddered whilst I raised the mast:
My flag, bleached white with snow.
But cheap surrenders counter aught,
Thus laundering the tears not fought,
But welled within thy eyes, ere taught
To seek; to find; to show.
Whilst brave men die where children play,
The edge of chaos starts to fray.
Now, silence! Let us steal away:
From whence we came, we go.
But shelter not from happenstance
Thy churning, twisting cruel romance.
Forevermore, thou fathom chance
As what thou shan't bestow.
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