Into the voice of Reason
Positioned against the words
He speaks of pleasure
Contra deft and knowing
Pain that resides in
This lucid flesh
Whilst he
Says winds flow
Beneath the wings—
Those that ail his beauty;
Pity for the one
Feels each day
Less upon their
First meeting glance
Outward in a gaze
Whispers judgment—
There, lives the
Victor of
Death
Defeated.