That shiver in the flesh
Just beneath the skin
That subtle hint of death
touching from within

She is the warp in the mirror
that distorts the lies
Showing the saint for the sinner
and relishing in their cries

There is agony in Her touch
Can you bite back the scream?
After that, it's not so much
to kneel on shards of broken dreams

Her gaze peels back the skin
leaving nowhere to hide
laying bare every thought and sin
a loss of pretense most cannot abide

Struggle against the agony
or embrace the pain
Scream or suffer silently
the world will fall all the same

Penned by my hand on Quensday, the 21st of Severin, in the year 16 AC.