Kevin stood by Johnathan's right side,
Inches from an axe covered by lambskin,
Dried and made in their old home,
An orchard, orphanage and music school,
All wrapped up in a bow of optimism,
Protected by a single dagger imbued,
With all there is to live for.
He was shown how malicious melodies,
Corrupting sound deviled by malice,
Words stolen from Sharin's lips,
Could be silenced by the real thing,
Etched onto his runed blade,
Written into its steel frame,
Handwritten by Sharin herself.