broken tongue

she rose grim, cold, in tears had flowers rotting in her hair in bloom red feathers smeared with ash and bitter tasted the blood red waters of the moon and she strayed charmed many a year now dead through autumned woods \'neath sickle moons that lead the way towards frenzied words that in the ruins of thy temple sing and undiscover innocence - still found in every ordinary thing the echo of a voice remembered and no wind...