And After the Ninth Circle (Treachury)

By Andrew R. Duckworth

When ice makes our domain
We only have ourselves to blame
As we beat our wings to escape,
But the wind forms the ice cape.
We’re feeding on the treachury
That keeps us from being free.
And in our unholy pride we weep,
Holding the hardened hearts we keep.
We are the Judas we feast upon
Consuming betrayal-dusk until dawn,
And so we play this deadly game.
We only have ourselves to blame.

Without the One who gives us light,
We are creatures of eternal night.