Your eyes trace my battlefield, fingers yet

Unwilling to behold the carnage in

My crimson-stained stage, where echoes have set

Before timid hearts that halt for your sin.

Your breath draws closer to terror as your

Lips form regret, and you claim immun'ty.

Hold fast to your truth; the rest you ignore;

Never you rel'nquish your blind naïv'té.

Outstretched arms, displayed in stark defiance,

Pull slowly away from your reeling mind;

Sleeves roll down in transparent compliance,

Guarding the struggle to which you claim blind.

Just as you had left me, so do I turn:

The sight, in your heart, forever will burn.