Yearn

On and on this battle lingers
'Til all who stand are but the singers
But as I stand amidst those evils by the fistful
My mind is swiftly split into shards of crystal
And so I wonder whom to blame
But from doing so I hide in shame
Why is it that my erudition
Seems matched with the dark incarnation?
But even still I'm surely dead
For my heart seems no longer red
So I see clearly what is missing from my sheath;
Love, for that is all needed for relief.