When he wept into my bruised neck

He fed me pomegranate seeds

And I asked for more

I asked for it

I was hungry

I did not just watch the Spring die

I carried the scythe, swinging and hacking

Until there was nowhere to hide

Nothing to eat

And though I have killed the King

I still walk on frosted grass

With berry stained fingers

And the flowers cannot grow

The flowers cannot grow

Yet

I still walk on