Poems I Almost Burned (Along with My Sanity)

The Good Death

I wrought a rotting river

I hauled a heavy hall

It seems my seams are breaking

I'm too old to take it all

I'm weaker every week

Each day I'm in a daze

I know the past has passed

Yet I've fazed into a phase

I'm mourning every morning

I'm not a knight by night

My trust is trussed in things extinct

My rite's no longer right

My pride's been pryed away

I've stayed far past what's staid

My soulless solace solely sins

My maid has made my grave

I've written all I rote

I've turned all but a tern

I've given all I have to give

And thus have earned my urn