A thousand whispering words

With an accusation in each syllable

Damning my own actions

From my minds inner garden

A thousand empty promises of

Immortality and power, each one

Delivered in black feathers

Made of youth and hope

Countless lies ringing hollow

In my ear, yet each

As true as the one that came

Before sharper than the last

A single peeling permanence

That defied each countless whisper

That power passes from one to another

The youth is not my right