In thy end, all shalt avaunt
In sables, thou shalt sacring thine folk
Thou shalt art the hegemon of the exodus
Thou shalt thither thine kin, to plight yer troth upon mine flock
Smite thy death
And thou shalt come with the crown of thy reign
Thine kin and folk
Now thine scurvy scullions
Make of thine kin, my levy
Make of thy soul my tool
Thou, yclept Crow
Now a puppeteer with silver-coated strings
Back to the beyond from whence thy soul came
To be venery thy past, the virtue of thy future
Nothing to vale over
Nothing left to unhand from me in thy end
YOU ARE READING
Memory Fragments
FantasyWARNING: CONTAINS VERY EXPLICIT CONTENT. Sooner or later, we all crumble beneath our fears. It's up to us to recall what makes us human and stand strong against adversity. Memories, shattered and scattered throughout our lives, come to us one by one.
