#brier
She was met on the battlefield,
The blood soaked streets
Of some Outer Rim world
At war with itself.
Tall, dour, resolute,
Wholly dedicated to the cause.
For clan loyalties and him,
If not for her own joy.
You were there,
An outsider with a job.
A name and a face to claim,
To buy your meals with blood.
His name was the one,
The leader of her clan,
Cruel man and a revolutionary.
Neither mattered to you.
There were too many,
Too many like her.
Scattered family
Clinging to hope and life.
You shot it down
Quite literally
And she raged,
The most of them all.
The job done you could’ve left,
Callously jumping offworld
With a body bagged
And credits to claim.
You left lives in disarray though,
Throwing more fuel in the fire,
Stoking even greater hates
And revealing dark plots.
A warrior’s name was tarnished
By the truth
And a bolt to the brain,
Courtesy of you.
Strained ties led to mutiny,
Murderously so against her
Who was always faithful,
Right to the very end.
Her life was bought by your hand
Just as it was ended by it,
And she loathed you for this.
Rightly so, you think.
You bought another’s too,
A few lives in fact,
And for that she thanked you.
For that, you stayed.
Part of a war
Which was never yours
You fulfilled your obligation,
Your debt to her.
Still she hated you
As you stood in the field
Scorched and hopeless,
So many you saved dead.
The battle was won
But at the cost of clan ties.
The hardliners never approved of her,
But she craved their trust.
Foreigner or not wasn’t a concern
Not to you,
Nor should it have to them.
That’s just tradition.
So you extended a hand,
A place to stay,
The only recompense you had to give,
And a cold comfort at that.
But she took it,
Not calling you sister just yet.
Where else had she to run?
She, the outcast, soulless and hated.
That was the fate of the faithful
Who kept to him truly.
For he was a chief no longer,
Just a villain in a blood war.
It was your fate too,
The destroyer of all,
Family ties and lives,
To pick her back up.
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 4:33 PM UTC
She’s gelded you, boy
That familiar cry
Runs through your mind
Insistently weaving in
Tainting your mood always
Souring your disposition
So that you, even you
Who is so patient
Slams down a cup
Losing your tolerance
With him, your cousin
And still she has broken you
She has and she steals
Pries away your men and women
Breaking your hold
Attacking your character
All that you are
Brier Iron-thorn, a name lost
A name stolen by her
And she has gelded you, boy
But you, no longer so patient
You wrote a note
And now you wait
Your raving barely contained
I am not gelded, Father
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC