Warpaint

Of all the world’s fair faces,
I envy your lifeless, smiling chrysalis,
For it’s cold, sapphire sight, searing far into the night,
Like dry forest afire,
Whose ash on your wan lips,
Is as good as tears in rain;
Void and false of pain,
Whilst your hair, long, unbound,
Waves as sea without the sound,
And for every breath you take,
Spits blood, bone and bile,
And stay stained the age old smile,
Of the victor’s fate and untamed pride,
Death’s glory: this last ride,
For which, even the heroes cried,
For which the Gods too died.