If I could scream my heart’s content
so Gaea knew my woe,
I’d wail into the mountainside
and submerge myself in snow.
If I could cry about my life,
though still crowned by younger tongues,
I’d shriek until I coughed up blood,
so snowy salve would fill my lungs.
If I could flee this frozen world,
I’d leave an olive branch,
so Gaea knew that I had won,
and caused the avalanche.