9 January 2013
Who I am is what I've done;
In all my works, I place my soul.
And now you say I haven't won --
In my heart now burns a hole.
I am immortal now; mere swords but pass
Through my gap, the bloody ring.
My body's iron, pure as glass,
Reigning over broken things.
You've killed me, or at least my heart,
And left me a corpse, however young.
I look at splendors, glorious art,
While all I hold is dung.
Failure • Opuss № I