Cursed

My brave warrior,
Thou art no Lazarus.
Thou will not resurrect.
Thou dig thy own grave.
Thou cannot bequeath
Thy slayings to the soil.
The soil shall not bury
Thy charred soul.
Eden waits not for thou.
Thy scars won't go;
They won't leave,
They won't heal.
Wear them as a curse.
Wear them as a curse
Till thy corpse rot.
Thy soul shall suffer
While the blood-stained
Weeds will shout,
"Wear it as a curse,
Wear it as a curse!"