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To Bear The Brunt Of Many BladesNothing that breathes is above betrayal.Nothing that breathes is divine. - Out from the shadows, well-wisher. The gleam of your blade gives you away. Drawn from me, my smiling assassin, Meet the blood that moved you- The blood of encouragement Spilling as common water. They will serve you... Long live the king. Soak up to your arms in his blood. Long live the king; They will serve you well. And you loyal friend, leave an ice pick in my neck as it were mine to keep. How terribly cold. - I breathe, and count my shallow breaths. Add another edge: Be sure to twist the blade. If come one, come all of this, a celebration of treachery and scissored flesh. Fall in, stain your steel in festive red- Here, where the sheep are butchers. A fresh patch of skin to pierce, One cannot resist. - Unsteady steps. Each waning, determined for purchase. I am he who falters, stricken with one thousand blades. With unsteady steps, I find my balance in deception. Step by burning step. Warm in the presence of malice. Barefoot among a skulk of men. Eyes ahead and taller still, I never look back. No. I knew not your names. I knew your numbers. I knew you all too well. - Two blades for every inch of flesh. Ensanguined. This is that which did not kill me. There's always room for one more blade... Not much a sight for sore eyes, The harrowed form of living will: Bent, And black, And so terribly cold. There's always strength for one last breath. |