I must be a faceless man,
for this cup I drink is brimmed with thorns,
and men with faces burn their lips
and choke on bloodied tongues.

I must be a faceless man,
drunk on venom and bitter blood,
and deaf to words that yank on flesh
and shrivel hides to oily sludge.

I must be a faceless man,
nameless like I was never born,
for men with names dole out their hearts,
and shed their skins for empty words.

I must be a faceless man,
for this dish I taste bites back with teeth,
and men with faces tuck their tails,
and rip at their bellies with rounded claws.

I must be a faceless man,
unbent and unbroken in a land of tears,
for faceless men must be the breakers
and igniters of the frozen years.