friecly battled

Alas, I fall.
I speak to thee with the tongue like
the bird chirps with the beak. But
the bird can harmonize in such
melodious tones that human chords
are not able to produce. I am
reduced to mutterings and groans
for my speech, coupled with clicks
and ticks of the teeth and tongue,
meeting eachother as swords: for
what is our tongue but a sword?
We use it to cut, shear, and tear
people down. And I fall, I put down
my sword, I give up the fight, I
cease to evade my foe's attacks
and feel the burn of steel whipping
through my skin. Death knocks at
my door and I let him enter.