Break, break, break.
Blood that slips, slides, is red and strong. Blood that flies and blood that falls and blood that smears. Bright eyes, brighter teeth, sharper hands. Whisper here, whisper there, yes brawl, yes hate, yes plunge the sword through your neighbour.
Break, break, break.
Dance, dance and dodge and jab and hate. Be angry, be swift, be persistent. Fuel the fire, fuel the screams, fuel with blood and pretty words of honour and pride and revenge and rights fulfilled. Muffle their words, ignore the pleas, loosen their hold on their sanity. Forget, make them forget. Do, and do, and do, and do not think. Bad, bad and worse, drink it in, soothe not but broil longer.
Be afraid and fear not, go on, because you want to, go on, go on, go on.
YOU ARE READING
a net of stars, woven
Short Story❝sing, o muse, of those who ruled on high, of women scorned and loved, and of golden crowns, and blood, and love, and war... sing, o muse, of those immortalized, golden-wreathed and ever-lauded, silver-souled and many-storied... sing, o muse, of t...
