Pleading for the Scythe

A fallow shell A wretched geist You summoned this anamnesis Remains of your disgrace Still haunting your doorway That sniveling mockery Recounts your memories Slips inside your guard You sigh and let it bind you In its vacant embrace Entwined, you cannot pass through The past; you cannot leave this place It knows you well Your will enforced A poet’s penitence The lustration you crave In whispers fell Its ravaged voice Recounts with reverence The cold grace of the grave O, how long will you sustain its shame? What weakness locks your grip upon this shade? Remembrance is no virtue When it preserves so much pain So long as you enshrine It, this sorrow cannot die Your patience is no mercy It is pleading for the scythe