“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language and next year’s words await another voice.”

 I thought I knew it well, you see

Until that dreadful day

I gazed into your violent eyes

Felt love immortally

I'd always loved the damaged ones

The evil, dark and dead

I wished to be a weakness, yes

To kill and bleed and shed

All of this I never knew

Until I sat and thought--

God, how mad I am for they

Who dream of life, for naught

Of course, these loves I speak of here

Do not, for truth, exist

'twas years, ages, lives ago

Were writ those manuscripts