Hospice of Archaism

A script misunderstood,
Scraping at the pain you cannot erase.

The paint you chose is prevented to chip.
Hush your voice, and purple scarred lip.

I tied a rope to each our hands
A desire you once did not understand.

It's getting cold when you're not around.
And death screams when it haunts me with sound.

I stole a branch no longer alive,
In the treetops it's easier to leap than dive.

And no other will find us here,
In our own polluted atmosphere.