I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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A Torture-Loosened Tongue I Could Forgive

A torture-loosened tongue I could forgive,

I fear I must condemn your price-crossed palm.

Their traitors' gold’s no balm for worthless wounds,

It will not soothe your ten-a-penny sin.

The poisoned word has garnered its reward

And paid a guilt of copper toward my stone.


A flame of rust has slowly claimed my sword.

The hangman’s halo holds a silver moon

Strewn with banshee mouths in coarse lament.

The boatman hails me from a haunted sail,

Within his sea-carved caves my cold grave calls.

I swim while still my breath can drive the wheel.