A lullaby for you.
A chant for the moon
to mask the eyes that loom.
A plea for you.
Flayed skin, torment within.
“Take the knife, prick its side!
Let it bleed for him to see!
God forgive you if you let it be!”
A tear for you.
The grief, it grows.
The moon heeded it not.
You died in its claws.
