4: The Villain

There lay no mystery in tragedy
Nor inquiries behind swift sighs
Far speak souls remorseless
Still, only a reprise

We speak because we see
Time in all her brevity
“Listen, child,” is her chastise
As we walk long into night

Counterfeit, these notions immortal
Sewn with greed, implores of regency
"Whisper stillness,” she suggests
When darkness indulges without us

We breathe because we dream
Without reprieve nor surcease
"Listen, child,” is her advice
As we fall long into night