Do not touch my hand and tell me of its withering.
Nor may you brand me with your mark of suffering.
And ye shall not in your cold smother me to numb.
Or fast asleep in your dreams behold me to break me.
Ye may not sell me promises with a devil’s tongue.
Nor behold my heart with gentle hand clenched in claws.
Heat not my skin with your touch to chill me with your words.
Do not rape my soul so that your illusions can be made real.
You may not take my days from me to waste them away.
Nor dance with me in moonlight as you draw me into darkness.
Do not walk with trembling heart and guide me by a fearless voice.
Nor dread the shadows for only in time shall you see of what is real.
Sleep not angel in this time of war for in battles dreamers lose.