another peers through the wound...

it's still so cold here. so cold, yet not even through
any winds does that cold come. for that may otherwise comfort us,
and we'd never see such a gift, not without a fight. instead,
we get only this dry, still freeze of despair.

and so we fight. but we can't fight without weapons, without swords.
thus, we will forge you into a blade. you, them, and whoever else
we can find. it won't be enough - nothing ever is - but it may,
at the very least, allow us to scream as we yearn to.

so you, wait not another moment. meet us halfway and we will do the rest.