Blood, I have learnt, is thicker than water:
a lesson that felled crowns, made history.
None can help being shaped by their fathers –
some learn prejudice, some receive cruelty.
Corruption brought about a roiling flood
of hatred, imbued with poisonous lies.
Soldiers are ranked, marked, chosen by their blood,
in turn, choose blood to sever friendship's ties.
This war may be on hold, yet prejudice
festers, spurs discordance and builds armies.
As evil lingers, no one dares attempt
bystanding in this game of opposites.
Here, apples can not fall far from their trees.
How can I expect you to be exempt?
How can I expect you to be exempt
from rules of descent? I can see no choice
but enmity shaping our words, contempt,
a cauldron of rage exploding in voice.
I stay masked in the shadows to shield you
from threats brewed in darkness. You, insolent,
repay my efforts in scorn, never choose
to heed advice, caution or good judgement.
Guarding you from yourself: impossible.
Year by year, you rush heart-first to danger,
run off recklessly, seeking adventure.
You may believe yourself invincible,
with your crown of sharp prongs and foolish stunts –
scars, remember, mark those favoured by hunts.
Scars remember, mark those favoured by hunts.
They recall the terror of battles fought,
survived. Prey, when afraid of being caught,
will fight for its life when it can not run.
The mark of poor soil is a shoot's stunted
growth. Harsh conditions and pollution thwart
youthful bloom. I must not dwell on the thought
that strangling weeds root, if left untended.
Patience can heal broken wings and regain
trust lost in cruelty. Yet instincts remain
drawn with tension, embedded in grim marks.
Whenever I see you, these images
linger; tear my judgement with gashes –
as rent as your brow, torn by lightning's scar.
As rent as your brow, torn by lightning's scar,
so was I broken at finding her slain.
I had fled from her light to pull the dark
to me instead. Hoped it would leave no stain
on her bloom: crimson, unforgettable
like the petals of poppy she cherished,
preserved. I forgot Unforgivables
are not meant to leave visible blemish.
Dense mists of memory shadow notions
strewn like flints. I must not touch, yet their sharp
edges strike my mind – sparks catch and ascend:
More than green eyes, she gave you devotion,
her righteousness, courage, her lion’s heart.
So you too, I fear, will fall in the end.
So you too, I fear, will fall in the end.
Like incense burnt, you will be blown away
at the shrine of triumph, raised to be spent –
just like a pig for slaughter, most prized prey.
Your die is set. Your crown has grown cursed thorns.
Life bleeds out without sense: All is in vain,
all the struggles and all the pain. For once
I wish you would not heed your duty when
the end is nigh. The snake strikes. There remains
no time. You come closer. I must explain –
how she tied us, led me to where I stood;
must explain the verdict passed on you. Look
at me, I beg you, understand my plight.
I gave my all – you faded from my sight.
I gave my all. You faded from my sight.
How was this the plan? That I still remain
here, while you are gone – you left no bloodstain
that four seasons could wash out or set right.
You willed me your secrets, so I learned: blood
of my blood. The tie brought hope that I would
bring you home – foolish fantasy. I could
pray for miracles, wish for magic, but
no magic can bring life to fairytales:
Princes fall. Tribulations rise; they fail,
lives lost to tragedy and happenstance,
fed to just wars incurred by their fathers.
Now, all I have left is this remainder.
Bile churned when you asked for fond remembrance.
Bile churned when you asked for fond remembrance,
the morning I first heard the epitaph,
the early crown for your late existence.
If you ever sought fame, you have enough.
What good does it bring, now that you are gone?
Life beyond death: nothing more than a dream.
You ensured the world lived on – I lived on.
Why waste your efforts to liberate me?
I was certain I knew you, yet you broke
my beliefs, turned the contempt you received
to love, unspoken, yet not unperceived.
As, at last, I am taught better, I choke.
Now, I fathom how you chose your altar:
Blood, I have learnt, is thicker than water.