Above me dance countless blades
Their ashes shaving at my morbid shade
Despite that, I wouldn't give them blame
For they're the children born of my flame
In the skin of their steel, I etched my ideal
Regretful ambitions I shouldn't make real
Yet still dwelling in my pride and zeal,
Realization came, and with it my squeal
For dancing through flesh and bone,
My eyes strayed over what I've done
Now craving sympathy in your silent blade
My children cut enmity and lay me to rest