Pyra

Out of the pyre of innocence
Was born a forge of necessity

It was here that I made it
A mask of tarnished silver

A mask of a trustworthy face
A mask with a history all it's own

I cut its past in intricate runes
That can be read in many different ways

It glowed with a presence all its own
It was blinding and I was afraid

But it did speak out to me
And reminded me of its creator

As I slipped it on, I cried out
The silver was melting

It burned, searing into my skin
I felt my face turn to ash and blow away with the winds

The silver bonded to my bones
Infusing them with the same white-hot glow

Who I was is now unimportant
The creator of the mask is forgotten

The mask has eyes of sterling
That tints the world that I see

For all of this, I'm still unsure
Of this creation that I've made

Coffin, Cocoon, Disguise
It's really all one and the same