I am lost.
Lost as a soul can be;
who once knew its place
was to wander endlessly.
I once thought
home lay in the arms of another.
But now I see this
has wrenched my heart asunder.
I lay broken
and dying; my body is dust.
I am nothing:
unworthy of the halls of the just.
The raven's beak
has pierced my tender flesh.
Consume me,
O carrion bird, in thy body-thresh.
I know
I should live well or not at all.
Judge me, o gods
in the wale-queen's hall.
I feel
The corpse-strands await me,
to drown
in venom eternally.