Harp of Violence

Not kind, not rampant, and not in any way ethereal

Blasphemous to the tortured muse, he was the undoing

The harp of violence for his daughters of two

Hasty was his killing, married too soon

But both him and his wife knew where to draw blood

Then came the rumor rings, with mundane gloves

His only hand in the hunt

And where we stood was soft

My sister was taciturn in her rekindling

Yet with an abhorrent roar there spun a new life

Flooding from the bookshelves with ease

Rehearsed, labored freedom at any point forward

Felt removed in an instant

Never was there a fairy with lives by the dozen to spare

She curated my character stare

We were killed in comfort, then swam to the east

The woven road led us to bridges untold

Hung by our seeds the treacherous fold

I’ll bare my fangs at the sight of a harp

Only a fool would forgive the gun in his heart