Carve Them to Ribbons

Carve them to ribbons; blood-soaked furrows,

Your thigh bears tracks long and deep, beaten by beasts of burden; your devils bare teeth at strangers, but you still wear them proudly.

Are they an illusion of strife?

A desperate or calculated attempt at an unreachable goal?

A tale of courage or a lie?

My shame is your pride,

Do you not understand my confusion?