Cloudberries

I give in to the moorlands
although ‘tis easy to say
that I couldnae fight to death
with the spirit I’ve never seen
I am completely
responsible for my own suicide
for when Temple is laid siege
there’s always plan C
and the moorlands, where you grow
although I thought you were from the clouds
and you tasted like cotton
but ye were too orange a Rosacae
in Eurasian moorlands
and I couldnae fight this hex to the end
not even with panaceas of unknown Chinese origin
nor with remedies of ancient recipes
found in archaeological valuable deposits
‘tis easy to say
ye can, with just one look at me
that this warrior ate his own axe
and that cloudberries don’t help in the fight.