Written by Isabella Melians

Clammy skin prickles with regretful power

Forced to turn to stone those that chant
Wretched beast, perish

Little hero, tell me this: Who are you?

Tattered satin dress exposes vulnerability beneath layers of lethality

Another “hero,” come to sever my neck

His skin pongs of blood, metallic ichor permeating my home

I can only imagine his desire, an expression of a lustful kill

Sharpened steel grazes my neck, crimson falls through bruised fingers

Fangs unsheathed, his cerulean eyes meet my muddy own

Another inescapable death to haunt me, to whisper tales of vengeance into my ears

My life is not my own

Please don’t do this

Appearance fit for a vile personality

We are mortal

An eternal punishment
A brandished sword dips in time to my fleeting heartbeat

To die in honor or cowardly save my own skin, I am but his pawn

Cursed fiend, I must know: Do they haunt you?

Endless victories marked by rusted blood across my armor

Soulless, slit eyes will harden my skin with a merciless passion

Her trophies shriek around me, moss curling from their eyes

They have spoken of her, hair of venomous snakes backed with a blood-curdling gaze

A small triumph, my hand wields a blade dripping with her blood

Dewy eyelashes flutter to meet her own, entranced in amber eyes

Cemented arteries and rigid skin trap my soul, an immortal prison