A child with wings, a curse so astill
Poem poem
Chanting and casting, an open hole through the gates,
Spirits swirl and wonder, who will take this child today?
Tradition has rationed the minds of the few
And so the spirits must choose: him, or you?
When the time comes, the world spins to a halt.
A fusion that no-one would’ve thought to be brought,
The bloodline horrors throughout its history,
Has made this young boy only see misery.
Hosted and hosts, the deal of the line
Have you, my son, read the contract lines?
A shake, a smack-a twist and a knock,
The demonic tyrant has soon been brought.
A deal with a seal, the blood not much better than rot,
An Original summoned, now taken to trot,
The boy, now feathered by wings, a curse so astill
Makes even the devils wonder, should it be killed?
The cast has selected its lines,
Roles chosen, it is now to do or to die.
For legends are born from the wars of the victors,
When the victors become the victims, who will play their savior?