Asmodee Scars Processor
You were suddenly dumb of joy into my arms,
I have satisfied my thirst...
But the cup must hold me a deadly draught...
Nightmares suck my throat,
Embraced by frail fingers;
Deadlier draught... for a brocken neck...
Yes, your ills shall not press in vain,
I waited you with boundless impatience,
A silent suffering... and intense...
Let me have my beatification...
Send me hopes than can spin in my head,
Active agonies of grief
No more bearn the eyes which my dream could inspire...
Yet even that pain is some relief...
Dans tes doigts, un courant si rapide
où coulent des étincelles...
J'ai le cœur crayeux,
isolé par des cuirasses de frissons...
Mettez en fleur mes cicatrices... Billes de marbre
luisantes...
