This is what happens when we play with fire:
We burn bridges down
Because we trifle with things we don’t understand.
As hard as I tried,
I could never fathom you
Or comprehend your virulent mechanisms.
In retrospect, it’s so easy
To say I was unjustly tasked with this onus,
But not all of us are interested in the easy choice;
And besides, I accepted my charge with verve.
But now I stand accused of treason
And have been found guilty by the Mother of Pearl,
Who even now tortures me with the wails of a banshee,
To remind me of the promise I broke,
The assurance I could not fulfill,
And the sins that will never be forgiven.
I thought I could be more than a corrupt courier,
A nefarious emissary
But in these narcissistic attempts at aid
I lost sight of the glory before me;
Now my tongue has been cut out
And I drown myself in the lamentations
Of zombified souls reeking with self-pity,
Accepting the embrace of the hollow,