Matthew saw she couldn't stand.
He knew it was the weapon that held her.
Trembling before its power.
After that near death experience years ago.
She'd never been the same girl.
He'd found alone and shivering.
As rain soaked her bones.
An infant before circumstance.
That ruffled head of innocence.
Brown eyed and unflowered
Couldn't take it all in now or then.

Happy Happy Happy
Sad       Sad      Sad
Why are you?
Why are you?
Don't be soo mad!

She regained her humanity, felt herself dosing off from the effects,
Of her everlasting anemia, to sustain her ivy as it labored to,
Heal her bruised and broken body.
I didn't ask for any of this, all I wanted was to be loved,
And permitted to wander the halls of my entitlement,
Weightless and carefree...

Blackened beyond resemblance to that of a living girl.
Andulan was delivered to a cold hard slab of vile witchcraft.
Only this wasn't a witch's coven.
Nor was any witchcraft actually involved.
That was merely what she screamed once she realized where she wasn't.
Lying face down leaking into snow beneath her ruined corpse.
Andulan demanded her throat be cut immediately.
My death was why you came by the thousands to our castle right?
For what other reason did your forces come for the throne held by my father?
If not to see us all stacked and burnt atop a stripped down column of humanity?
Tell me! But they owed her no explanation.
That was when silence reached for song's hands.
Hidden behind her skull.
A simple gesture freed her from her thoughts.
Replaced a girl with a monster.

A singing axe, fully endowed, eager to please,
Cleaved the carriage in half, splitting it through the top,
Loosed by a man's voice at full force,
Supported by a trilateral tree,
Joined at the trunk by a lyrical sword and reaching polearm,
They took a defensive stance, watched the enemy, expecting retaliation.
Andulan's snakes slithered forward, cutting through hymnal barriers,
Rick's archery felled two serpents before they could get very far,
John's protection came back quickly to send a blade soaked in misery meant for him,
At breath's distance, he heard nothing from this one, it was silent absent expression,
Venom drizzled down his axe's head, sliding down its body of worked wood,
John shook it loose and dug towards a spinning flow of blue, It was beside him before,
He could breathe again.

Andulan felt her strength returning, the dizziness was fading,
Her anemia was alleviated by the blood of a dozen squirrels, five voles,
Three moles, a badger and a family of deer, too slow to evade,
Such reaching, grasping death moving across the surrounding area.
John's thrown axe carved a brown road ahead, slickened by green moisture,
It mowed through the grassland before them, cutting through its share of vines.
Kevin and Paul hacked away at it's venom tipped children, all eager to play,
With their ****** corpses...
Song's presence kept them aware of their choices, if they erred even slightly,
From shown path forward, Andulan's feast would begin in earnest,
Bringing ecstasy wrapped in sadism to the young girl's life,
Corrupting her once pure, enheartening song.

Everyone hears it,
Briefly before it all crumbles away.
Wet and dripping I retrieved.
Life from death with a hurried flicker.
I'm cursed with this perverted trick.
I can't bare to look at myself or it.
One side snickers at me through steel lips.
The other sings at me with an open mouth.
I see moths congregating above.
Will it swallow their light?

As that grip loosened,
Shaking uncontrollably,
Often flickered a shade of bronze,
Betwixt hushed gasps of silence,
A turning wrist, twisting against mineral limits,
I heard a song playing,
As her sliced arm betrayed by inhumanity,
Shook and convulsed without forethought,
I saw her salvation,
Dangling above my weakness.

Janet snarled at me,
As I redressed her with bloodless clothes,
Those eyes could ****, but for unknown reasons,
They denied me release.
Not looking upon her with a single eye,
It was a hideous sight,
Washed her clean of nightmares,
Worn outside her skull,
Beside a waterwheel followed by no one,
Except my guilt.
I tainted once heavenly waves,
Of prosperity that flowed between hands,
Sticking not an inch up my arms,
I was denied awareness of that difference between,
Surface temperature and groundwater.
Because I had to do what she needed,
Not what she wanted,
Janet pressed that silence,
That stole her voice, replaced by primal utterings,
To my unafraid throat.

Choosing to die rather than watch.
Matthew rose to feet unsupported by vigor.
Wielding a simple woodcutter's axe.
Turned butcher's cleaver.
His foe turned, pivoted and let go of lever.
That wood exploded.
Its head fell into the marsh.
He fished for it but found instead.
A blade by his head.

In the skull, light dwells.
Outside all is darkness.
A cloak that keeps them warm.
I shiver despite the heat.
A man smiles towards me.
I cannot see his face.

His profession.
Blacksmith and poor at it,
Received naught but ridicule,
A novice's pupil they said,
Still his jokes were a commodity,
It kept him paid.
Poverty was there for us but,
Not for me.
He'd take mother and I to read,
Beneath an old apple tree,
The family's fourth relative,
To read an old storybook,
That changed each time.

Too many beg.
Too many want and desire.
To hold a place beside the fire.

Paul was the fourth to appear,
Wielding a pole-arm he'd made from,
Fallen spears modified to remove,
Deceit from naked steel, given new clothes,
Of black and red.
Traveled four nights and sixteen hours,
To Sharin's trust, a place inhabited by craftsmen,
Blacksmiths of good report.
Fashioned him a weapon of last resort.

Andulan was perplexed,
She was trying but they weren't dying,
I've never encountered song like this,
You seven are the real deal, not copies,
Like Toblin's, or should I say Prienne's,
Untalented singers, musicians and sycophants,
Stooges all, fit only to sate my unfortunate, burdensome thirst,
When I find it appropriate to become a monster, that is.
After much exercise, Andulan retracted her vines,
Those fields of green vanished into the dirt like frightened voles,
Fearing the sight of hawks above,
Next she turned her gaze towards the three musicians huddled together.

Her snakeshead are all dead,
According to all that is said,
For on that night seven years ago,
Venom was diluted by song and cast away,
Seeping into the snowfields of mount Hasgar,
A region of rolling serpentine hills turned into a lifeless glacier,
Many Sharins ago...

By now earth's turn.
Had brought a stoic ally out from hiding.
Its mortified whiteness remained unchanged.
Before this world.
It had no reason to urge a man.
To smile.
Luminous rays of borrowed fame.
Came to bring perverted acclaim.
To steel soo twisted it didn't deserve a name.

It was a delayed effect,
Slow enough to leave John and the rest to her devices,
Even empowered as they were, song had its limits,
Each found themselves entangled, disarmed and held high into the air,
John was fondest toy, brought in intimately close for a rendezvous,
Andulan caressed him lovingly, ******* in knots as he was, he couldn't resist,
As she bit into his unblemished neck.
Kevin dropped in, riding ****** adrenaline that gave him measure,
Intoxicated by cortisol that nullified his immediate pain,
He and Paul shrugged off numerous gashes to the arms, legs and chest,
Each was stabbed in a near fatal area near their hearts,
But it didn't stop Kevin from cutting him free from Andulan's grasp,
Nor did it prevent Paul from pressing his trident up to her throat,
To bring her down breathless and weakened.

Andulan felt her anemia returning,
As huge serpents, thick as men's arms,
Slithered around her body as she knelt down low,
Holding her head to bring an end to the conscious nightmare,
Cringing through the agony building inside, becoming harder to manage,
That old temptation returned once more, action could express that which silence,
Held captive.
Rick tried to free her from monsterousness, guiding shafts towards her core melody,
But vines of metallic integrity deflected good intentions, breaking them upon ground.
Constriction tightened around her heart,
Until she couldn't breathe, didn't feel it anymore,
Held aloft by a direction she didn't want to take,
Andulan was returned to this world an emerald princess.

Toblin's mind shot him an image of what he'd do.
Before he actually did it.
Buckets of oil drowned what remained of Sharin's tear.
Her tear ducts were now thoroughly clogged beyond return.
Drumming fingers danced upon his leathery tunic.
It was Andulan, princess of lies wearing a human face.
If he turned from his conviction to see Sharin burn.
And faced her.
That snake would bite into his neck and fill his homeland.
With buckets of blood.

Can you see them?
I'll ask tilting my head to the left,
As smiles coupled with warm emotions.
Touch and hold your hands sisterly.
Those spinning weapons,
indescribable without set shape,
Fashion them into whatever you like,
I'll say as my head returns to its proper place,
Addressing one of my loyal subordinates.
The last painless you'll know is,
His gloves on your back.

One of her last remaining Snakeshead died from his wounds,
Restating his oath to serve Andulan before slipping beneath the black,
No song awaited him on the other side, only pools of venom,
On an island of silence.
That killed down to the last, knew his survival was heavy,
So he tore off a symbol of his responsibilty, from a brotherly neck.
Andulan was found passed out and alone, with a starry sky above to glimpse upon,
It didn't exist for him, all that mattered was that his beloved was still alive,
Battered and bruised, but living nonetheless.
He carried her off into the forest, taking her to a clearing beside a frog filled pond.
It croaked with slimy life, pouches of green littered the vernal pool, filled with capsules.
It was a melodious, low pitched song that eased him to sleep beside her,
He'd wake up with her lying over him.

I'll turn it all to art,
Every little part,
Soul heart happenstance.
Cannot remain the same.
Cause swallowing it all,
Will fill me with delight,
Turning the spinning fear,
Into clothes I wear.
Witness how suave I am,
A grounded formal star,
Speaking beyond those all around,
The cracked brittleness of awareness.

I dress myself alone and wanting.
In clothes that won't fit.
Thread-bare silk inlaid with vexing jewels.
Gathered from a higher realm.
Polished daily.
That gleam is fading along with me seized in its reflection.
I see a waif cursed with vision beyond common sight.
Wandering streets of ermine and sickly jade.
Unable to buy he seeks to pry value and sentimentality free from mundanity.
His device is crude and nearly broken.
The wrong tool for the job.
Those around fail to notice by their own choosing
I won't join Matthew just yet...
He died wanting for bread, begging me timidly to share a portion of his fear. His hands shook, clammy and fretful throughout his final ordeal. I bid him farewell and set him free from hunger. Succor never came from strangers, but it came from me for him on that day. That borrowed blade, Silence of song, embedded itself in his life and lingered there until it stood alone in that vacuous chamber. Breath vacated his gaunt body as if fleeing capture. I left him lying there gazing above for enlightenment that would never come, but was always there to see.

Long did we find ourselves partners in plight.
Carrying both silence and song with us.
We heard sweet lyrics sang by angels.
While silence filled our home, full of empty hands.
Behind fortress walls, we were protected from foreign invasion.
Yet unprotected were we all from misfortune.
Parents offered to war as sacrifices, crying out for justice.
They found only death, offered only tragedy.
Instead of the justice they promised to give.
They returned dishonored, dressed in shame and covered in woe.
Houses set upon higher ground.
Came before us bearing fruits of privilege.
Readily shed from branches grown unchecked.
Had it been geniune, it wouldn't of stopped at charity.
It would have continued onward, brave and unguarded against concerns of cost.
Homes and hearts provided keep minds and souls tethered much longer.
Than false pretenses and half-hearted succor.
If I grow up I will seek allegiance with the blades of silence.
For it was one of its members that came down to our level.
And offered us a sliver of hope cradled within an expression of generosity.
Nothing in return, only silence. Said the hooded person wearing silver myths upon his breast.
Silence of song was given to me by way of gentle force.
Though timid and wavering, my hands were persuaded to open of their own accord.
His warmth was a key, intrusive and welcomed, it opened my trust and left us both in awe.
Before he could vanish from our lives, a song began to play.
It was song that united the kingdom, kept solidarity from fraying at the fringes.
Those that wore Ermine and jade stopped to listen, held by hands of power and position.
We couldn't discern its meaning or intention, little did we know that our feelings of exclusion were actually gifts of freedom...
By the time our tongues were ready to question, he was set in motion away from us toward the sounds and crowds of oblivious listeners.
Flashes of steel flickered in front of captivated visages locked in controlled reveries.
Delusions of a place indistinguishable from paradise, shattered upon contact with reality.
Blood was set loose onto the streets, though the affected were grateful to be rid of it.
For it was pain that freed them from song.
It was House Horgrave that day that made attempt upon our sovereignty.
Their songs are composed in sin yet are performed in innocence.
The blades of silence seek an end to these malicious performances.

Allegiance stood aside,
As did red and black suspicion.
John opened the door with his voice,
While Cornelius stood unrobed, his command nullified,
He didn't stop them,
Polearms bought without coin,
Stolen from thieves plundering life itself,
Uncrossed and moved aside for seven reasons.

I died never knowing.
The value song was sowing.
We held each other closer.
Two figures, indistinct.
I kept an eye from closure.
To happiness we would've gone.
Had Silence stayed away,
Now I fear that, I will...I'll,
Die without knowing...

With one hand pressed onto the ground,
Feeling earth with pulse, she filled soil with enmity.
Bringing rise to fields of quivering, thirsty green.
Tendrils excited to paint themselves red and drink of life,
Paul and Kevin thought inward, felt just outside their horizon,
Immediacy beyond breath.

Song is my choice, what say you brothers?
Rick reloaded his bow, nocked it back, aimed his next assualt,
He'd use symphony to set her free, see the girl released from silence,
Or cleanse her of the inner monster sullying her soul, plaguing her mind,
And crushing her heart.
John smiled, drew back his humming axe for more blows to come,
He rose his tenor to lift leaves and rocks, in clods and clumps,
Stealing foundation away from treacherous underbellies, slithering towards them,
Drawn fangs overflowing with venom, bringing the ground to a sizzle,
Rushed as a blurry confluence of approaching green, darting back and forth,
Paul removed his hand barring Kevin from impulse, allowing him to strike,
Delving into the allowance of angels.

Presumptous and fat.
He dined on honeyed bat.
While seated upon a carriage.
Gracing through Sharin wettened by lamentations.

Scarred by **** and pillage.
It was once a tender village.
Gone unnoticed through political necessity.

I'd jam this blade through his heart and be silent with him.
If song hadn't held me down at the waist.
So I swallowed disgrace with shame watching me.
Trembling inside his shadow.

Rick slung his bow over one shoulder,
Grabbed ahold of lower branches,
Providing a path to higher ground,
Enshrouded by leaves, bitten by toughened bark and plastered by scented pitch,
Rick felt himself flooded and stung by nature's presence, his own song was muffled,
By a song of verdant days spent running,
Through and through without a care,
Bringing youth's glow to bear,
Upon the stones of time.

Within infinite darkness a light can be found
Those that bask in it are cleansed
Their minds cleared of all doubt and resistance
They drink from life's chalice and are sated
Others despise them and scoff at the miracle
Many will fade to retrieve it, the light will be lost
Seized by force its power is faint
Set free it opens a gate to eternity
Won't you walk there with me?

All else would scream and try to escape,
But not you, my loyal snakeshead, not you,
We raised you like a member of an extended family,
Taught you reading, writing, arithemetic,
Gave you scales to wear and weapons to master,
Granted service to fill out your otherwise meaningless existence,
He interrupted her.
I live to serve you m'lady, no other vocation gives my pulse rhythm,
You gave us the power to exceed mortal limits, sharpened our minds beyond,
The scopes employed by lesser men cannot gaze upon what I have seen,
Thanks to you...
She sunk her fangs into his giving neck, he closed his eyes and wept,
At the majesty of it all.

Sharin's troupe requested horses,
Were given destriers to ride back into serenity's dominion,
Sitting atop animals raised to believe in nothing yet die for everything,
Costly saddles lifted from slain foes, torn from stilled blue.
Brought images of black and red into tearful focus,
They are just orphans, abandoned by an uncaring world,
Why would Toblin want to despoil such temporary innocence?
They all came to a shared conclusion,
Suspected greedy gold enclosures, sought to capture her,
As she slept below the soil that was her's to give,
Restored and given back to destructive children, who'd broken all their toys.

Oil was used to seal her fate and that of her siblings.
While a sword was ****** through her only relative.
In clear view as she writhed in fire.
The crush of fabric attached to her only competition.
Threatened to smother before the fire could claim her.
As her sisters and lone brother agonized in a pool of misery.
She thought only of herself and her slain father.
The only person worthy of acknowledgement.
The others never recognized her beauty or grace.
It made her sneer at them with disdain.
Her mother was throttled for hours, where none would bear witness.
Andulan couldn't care less.

He said what he had said before,
A nose not stranger to bloodiest gore,
Turned a hand to beckon closed door,
Locked and barred bendwise and hammered,
By the eyes of many battles.
They simmered with experience, drew a handbook out,
Laid before them as such options were plentiful,
Should these street hooligans, singing and playing for free,
Prove to be sorest enemy, agents of Toblin's freshly minted son.
Still hot and brash from command's ascent.
Prienne's mind wasn't one to be weighed by age alone,
His talents lead chessmasters to weeping chambers,
He'd dine at dinner wearing a bib of success,
No challengers exist for my skills to test,
A fact he had to acquiesce.
Savoring the sounds of old crones and men alike,
Unaccustomed to losing control of the light,
A candle lit as sole companion, they'd given life to master,
An art he merely dabbled triumphantly.

Rick thought it a fitting jape.
To send a letter to Cornelius's attention,
Astride an arrow enlightened by lyrics,
None save Sharin's own could ever hope,
To do justice.
Born from wood felled by effort against weakness,
Loosed by a man at peak performance,
Trespassed the scarlet black king's sanctuary above weapons,
Announcing their arrival.
A common knife, cracked open a waxy permission.
It hummed with a melody that sang only Cornelius,
May open my trust and read,
My heart.

A musical note, high-pitched and heartfelt,
Rustled her dress, a patch of white above her most vital spot.
Pain pierced her, forcing out a broken, rasping cry.
A single bloodied arm, green and quivering, bent back to show,
An arrow meant for her.

She had her subordinates step back a moment,
Sheathed their fangs and returned to her side,
It was unseemly to slay a foe without presenting an offer,
To stand at grace's side.
You did well, my entitlement has seen better days, I dare say it is beyond saving,
She spoke beyond her years, as if they were already acquainted.
Who are you? John boldly demanded,
I have no reason to answer that question, better that you remain ignorant,
Lest I become a monster.
I see you've been studying Sharin's songs for many years,
You're all quite good, spent your whole lives practicing no doubt,
I could use people of such talent under my wing for you see,
I have a stooge surplus.

We made travel upon a road.
Of coarse stones and leaves aplenty.
Shrubs framed the dire edges.
Unable to support much life.

We watched through a clouded mirror.
As Toblin's men marched through.
Torches in hand.
Held by the ages.
Our memories were there still.
Able to send waves of history.
Screaming, dying, crying back to us.

Matthew had hoisted me along.
Hooking his arm under mine.
Taking us both to an old cabin.
Long abandoned and disowned.

Men upon saddle.
Entered Sharin's tear, a little town less than mine.
But still more than nothing.
We eluded suspicion huddled beside ashen rubble.

A chimney's corpse concealed us well.
Both of us coughed and sneezed.
Choked and wheezed.
On the dust and ashes left in the wake.
Of Lord Toblin's last mistake.

Johnathan stepped first onto stairs,
Built to lift those below to status above,
Looming over a desperate campaign given form,
From hope shed a chance for more,
Stone sourced from many perils,
Donated in secret from those still leashed to slavery,
It was determined that Rick stand at last back.
To glimpse at tragedy's finale opportune moment.
It was a hastily constructed, mixed kingdom of ragged stone,
Colors arranged without taste or fashion, since neither is practical,
In times of war.

Normals cannot see hearts.
As we do outside form.
Taken apart to be remade.
Unknown is terrifying precisely because.
Required viewings will be forced upon us.
Always the same is never stressful,
Leave me by the lantern, please.

Once fog finished,
I felt the need to get up and walk a few paces before,
I realized I couldn't,
We haven't eaten for days that growl said,
Pressure entered my head, lightening it to less than a pound,
I retreated to a lower tier level with a trimmed bush,
It was a pampered thing, alien ecology nestled against grey stone.
A sliver of luminescent bronze, a ray of light slide down its handle,
Leaping off the tip and vanishing with a glare,
I wondered why it was there,
where had it come from?
Last choice I made was to clutch my sides and fall beside it,
Moving myself weakly from side to side,
I saw two chestnut combatants, grabbing each other by the head,
Skittering across the dull bronze arena they'd happened upon,
Grapplers born to hold competition between stubborn jaws,
I watched their final glorious moments, captivated by their determination,
To continue living and spread one more time,
Into the annals of history.
One last growl, a churning necessity made itself know,
As I cheered internally with the victor, holding its head up high,
I thought only of myself when I grabbed them both and,
Swallowed without tasting.

John let loose with a piercing bellow,
Tossed his axe into the air, motioned for Kevin and Paul,
To take his left and right, Kevin held his blade out,
Guiding its purpose, resting his left hand on its gibberish,
Paul tightened his grip, felt his bones straining from tension,
Three prongs glimmered in the falling light, evening was fast upon them,
Andulan caught his axe, and threw it aside,
John whistled, it spun, built up speed and returned for another go,
Paul pierced the girl in the chest, green blood oozed out and around his weapon,
Vines took away his choices, wrapped around his arms, he was paralyed,
Come closer, I'll take away your fears with my fangs,
She pulled him closer, held his chin under her delicate fingers, touched his left cheek,
A single tendril slithered up to his neck before coiling tightly around it, stealing his breath.
Andulan moved in for the bite, tasted it before her lips made contact,
Kevin sang into his ear, cut him loose and took him to the ground,
John's axe slammed into Andulan with enough force to cleave a castle in two,
She was knocked unconscious...

Wicked steel, green and deadly,
Chimed with disturbing rhythm,
John couldn't hear his thoughts, nor call upon song to aid him.
His voice was gone.
The other six performers stopped to witness a girl untouched by injury,
Emerge from the ruins of Toblin's carriage,
Seemingly unaware of the skirmish taking place,
Before her innocent, entitled eyes hidden behind a veil of lace held in place,
By a royal black coronet.

The night she was killed, she was but a girl of 13.
Still young and whole.
Unblemished by that insistence that all fade with time.
Fresh flowers went unnoticed around her.
Guarded night and day, joined by her father's snakes wherever she went.
Wandering the passages of her entitlement bare-foot and weightless.
She'd be gawked at if she tried that outside the blissful permission granted by.
Her father's hold over the world.
Tragically from their perspective only.
Song stood as worthy challenge to Venom's potency.
Easier to apply and effortless to spread.
Once inside it charted course across territory wearing clothes from all cultures.
Puppets of such quantity couldn't be bitten into submission quick enough.
To stem the tide of red they'd set into crashing motion.

Toblin recalled the voice of an angel.
Still untouched and pure as fallen snow.
Her servants tripped over feet held in glass.
Filled with emptiness and unable to support.
In the face of her breeding and gloriously divorced position.
From the grave her family still held sway.
Clutching the crown that would make them masters again.
Toblin is nothing more than an irritant I shall see bloodied
And humbled by nights end.

Sickness claimed Matthew.
Not hunger or lack of faith.
It was too much.
To strike him down with unavoidable truths.

He didn't deserve that.
To live under stretching shadows.
Following him wherever we went.
In a world bereft of compassion.

With armed guards patrolling night and day.
Threatening beggars and waifs with imprisonment or worse.
I was the sole coin in his purse.
With me he could buy all the happiness his imagination could afford.

Together we stole to fill our bellies.
Hid to elude capture.
And invaded a nearby tavern to lift our spirits.
Maidens took great pains to dissuade.

Luckily I was equipped to persuade.
Finding myself without coin, Silence would have to suffice.
Song would have to wait, as it always did.
Matthew, pitiable and stricken with illness.

Attracted concern from all around.
Within these painted walls of red and black.
Where men threw back.
Speaking from the heart unfiltered.

He was a touch of humanity in a place of escape and denial.
Many of the serving wenches had children.
Or knew of youngsters battling disease and faced with hunger.
He was unaware of my plan.

Naive beyond measure.
He'd stand there to soak in their companionship.
Even ignored as he was he still fed off them.
He was a fool, he was my fool.

And I played him as such, acting on our behalf.
Without compunction I waited outside.
Waiting and scheming to steal that which young hands.
Can never grasp alone.

A stumbling *****, often heard spewing falsehoods and spittle.
Emerged dumb-footed and large of head.
He'd be off to a bed a woman.
Of ignoble birth no doubt.

Who or why I couldn't spy.
A reason to care.
He wasn't dressed in white and green.
So alone he would likely dream.

In place he wore what he could find in store.
A purple vest lined with silver trim down the front.
Wrought iron buttons kept his blonde wilderness in check.
I could smell the metal.

Of coin held in pockets.
Jangling in my head, soo near at hand.
Dangling from a strap at his waist.
I found fortune's place.

He turned to face me.
But saw nothing within that bush.
Hiding my likeness from his clouded eyes.
And blunted intellect.

Soft footfalls neared proximity.
Slipping silently with blade in hand.
I severed ties with wealth and redistributed it to me.
To us and our needs.

That swollen pouch fell to earth.
I caught it wearing mirth.
As it landed in my left with a plop.
I knew it to be heavy as a sack of bronze potatoes.

Harvested plump and earthy from stainless soil.
Unadulterated and free from trickery.
The goody drunk did well to not notice me.

His life wouldn't be the first.
Forever shall I be his left-hand girl.
And he my right-hand boy.

Truth be told though her vassals reportedly died,
To the last man, cut down by voice and guided steel,
Left floating dismembered and forgotten,
In a duet of song and venom.
Reality spoke as a contrarian.
For you see those flowing jade robes, with emerald armor beneath.
Decided it would be wise, to don a different disguise,
I can still keep them fed, if only modestly,
My royal blood is ours, for all my family,
I am house Venom now, the last Ivy keeper.
Since boyhood brought them to me, they've graciously accepted,
What was given to them was power, it made them stronger, wiser,
Incisive enough to slice as we do through theories and viewpoints,
Less often steel upon throat than words upon logic,
Felling disobedience before points could be taken back and,
Reforged into rallying force to bring the hordes against us.