Shackled hands and bowed heads, Screams of those who slowly bled. In the middle, laughing in cold demise, Fuelled by all those howling cries, Stood a man with heart black as ink, Pain and sorrow made his rink.
A little girl, with a golden smile. Her father was her eternal mile. Love of a mother, stolen by ink, Tears flew from every blink. Stolen away was her father too, Truly hidden in the blue. An oath of revenge, sliced the night. In search of ink went, her eyes bright.
The pen of life replaced by a sword, In front the inkheart known to hoard. Slice, the sword cut through his heart, And charred black ink stained the dart.
No one with an ink black soul, Can live for long in galore. Slowly Karma takes its place, And no human can create a brace.