Hell's Blade

Another cheery addition to my works on protagonize, not I'm not this gloomy in real life. This poem is about a powerful sword crafted by Satan's son in revenge against man for killing his intended. Please excuse the half attempt with medieval vernacular, I was trying to give the poem a sort of feel. I knew the words and they rhymed so in they went.

Leave it in Hell, leave it to rot

Leave it to which it was begot

For it's hell's kind, Hell's own

Forged in blood and made of bone

 

Ten thousand men have felt it's bite

Ten thousand more will feel it's might

For it's the Bonecrusher, the Bloodbringer

The Fleshbiter, the Ribstinger

 

Brutes have taken this sword in hand

And Brutes have burnt and pillaged the land

Mad men wield the blade

Wield the blade till the debt is paid

 

To fill Night's princeling's vengeful vow

Twenty thousand souls will take a bow

To right wrongs done to demonspawn

For his lover, the prince still does mourn

 

In grief and anger he wrought that blade

And grief and anger that blade has made

For pain begets pain and man will learn

How truly bright his heart did burn

 

He gave men the sword, for no creature

Could make his revenge sweeter

Than man can, than man would

And on his promise he made good

 

For the blade caused war and strife

It's spilt blood and taken life

More than any other weapon known

It has made whole kingdoms groan!

 

Fear it, fear it well

Else feel the special heat of hell

Flee it, flee it fast

Else your next breath may be your last

 

 

The End

10 comments about this poem Feed