Tempest Be The Vanquished Seed

Tempest be the vanquished seed
By which I live and long to feed
Upon the threshold of this place
Turn away, and no longer look upon my face

Smite thy hand beseech the meek
From this place I long to speak
Spectre of the long, so weak
Sackcloth of the homeless speak

Begrudge me not less ye be slain
Inasmuch to say that I am vain
Hereto this, I feel the sense of heartless pain
That sweeps across this dusty plane

Overwhelm by shadows in the mist
I long to feel your gentle kiss

Impulsive are the sounds of the subtle whispers
I long to feel the torment of a thousand splinters
And walk among the endless winters

Deceive me not less ye be slain
I hold no sense or an ounce of shame
Coherent are the thoughts that I must obey
So leave henceforth without delay