In days of revolt I too carried a torch And swung at my arrows But time is ruthless And heals nothing The shrieking ruin Of a hard winter's kiss Takes forever more summers To mend Now the snow just as might lay Cloaking the remains Shrouding the wounds And sores Of losses and fatigue With pure, white Amnesia For what the sun uncovers By its taunting rays Are like swords to the lies My life and dreams However nightmarish Are built upon Rather it lay cold and dead Than revealed in all Its necrotic splendour The price to pay In facing failure