A clandestine falls only so deep,

sickly tale spared from all but me;

Seeping eyes crest in black,

sweet nectar which flawed hearts' lack;

How much misery can one inflict onto a lone soul?

Beaten fragments cold;

Silent flaunting words,

adept disguise conjured;

Power has less appeal,

glistening tears that break and reveal;

An Incessant sly endowment witnesses no bounds,

heart worn upon sleeve still found,

Does this mean one's made of stone abound?