and despair murmurs on and on

I prize my wounds and often sigh as the high moon enwraps the shore for even words are at a loss upon the verge of war cruel winter rises once again and screams draw breath upon this sundered throne of mine still eager to devour more will her voices pass with time? carved are the charms into my blood and even though I keep in mind war\'s dismal recollection no compass on this earth shows my direction...