Encore, No

What troubles you so dark,
what ravels you so deep,
has stripped your ribbing stark
and gnashes in your sleep.

What grinds the knotted fist
again, again, again,
behind your eyes, can twist
your reel of drunken brain.

You hunger for your lost,
you thirst for brooding caves --
you curse the heavy cost
the answered praying craves.

Then are you also dumb
and blind, who cannot see
as easy as you come,
so easy you go free?

The bitter air that breathes
in you is yours. Leave. Fly!
Your blade my blood unsheathes --
you shall not see me die!