Icarus's blog: "Augurs, Martyrs, and Agnostics"

I was swept away in a tide much less becoming,
pestilent arrogance my meager cardboard buckler.
"We" being a misnomer, I dare to tread below
I ponder fitfully on frozen purgatory
in the still memories and needling recollection.
A barb to the ego, a sleight, a blade to the back,
All with precise, injurious intent and humour
none so cruel as the ripe, rusted reflection
the words of waste and doubt we save for our private hell.
No enemy so great, so eternal, as our selves.