On her knees, hands clasped in prayerTears streaming forth, eyes webbed in a crimson rim
Firm she knelt, clothed in velvet layers
Her purpose beholden to the tyrants’ whim
A son she has, one that faces the tyrant’s wrath
An infant she suckled, to whom she taught the right path
Through the workings of chaos, became he a thorn in the tyrants side
And now a terrible end awaited him, slave to the evil one’s pride
A woman she is, one that brought forth life
Alone she raised him, laying claim as no man’s wife
No earthly weapons does she bear, just a grim resolve
In the belief that through a mother’s love, will the blackest of hearts dissolve
“O feared one; thou have laid waste to the plain
Millions have perished by the swords that bear thy name
Land, gold, riches there is nothing I have that you cannot claim
Will the death of my son, add to your ever spreading fame?”
“Together we survived through the age of joy and malice
A life style so poor that we drank out of a single chalice
Happy was I to feed him his meal by the light of a small fire
For each of us, was the others world entire”
“And now through your strength shall you take everything
From one as Wretched as I, yet who has never begged for nothing
I beseech you O terrible one, to let him go
Or take me with him, on a path illuminated by your executioners bow”
Silent sat the court; a few of them in dismay
Many have begged for their lives, never once did the tyrant sway
By his wrath and ferocity, a thousand innocents have been consumed
Pity the Blackhearted did, this mother who the despot had doomed
Sat the Tyrant unmoving on his throne of bone and sinew
Mask concealing a face that no living soul claimed that he knew
Crimson light bouncing of his armor like a bladed prism
Eyes long since clouded by the machinations of nihilism
For Millenia have souls been consumed by the Tyrants will
The old and young, many have cried their voices shrill
Suffer the little children he was said to have once intoned
That was ages ago, before his voice died away, entombed
Beneath the layers of steel, blade and gristle
Fused together by the machinations of the purest evil
Sparked some thing, faint as a hound’s whistle
Smaller than small, as tiny as a weevil
A memory of one such as she who knelt before him
Image hazed by the tyranny of time and chaos
But the touch so pure it refused to dim
Through eons of warfare and malevolence
A young head cradled in her lap
Tears of anguish disappearing in her folds
Soft cries of her name, tighter her arms did she wrap
Happiness returning in the warmth of her hold
Through some work of fate or happenchance
This entity did forever disappear from his being
And with her did she take the last vestiges of his humanity
For only to hate now did he cling
Thus combined the will of the present and the memory of the past
Did the Tyrant decide not to let the young’un breath his last
Nary did a word but a finger rise to demand
The boy is to go free by my command
Thus did end the last good deed
Of one so evil his name spoke of in whispers still
Millions more did he slaughter, their prayers he paid no heed
To command and conquer such was his will
He finally met a violent end, in a field full of blood
Spitted by a hero who survived pestilence and flood
In his final moments, all he heard was delighted laughter
To mark the vengeance of the hero who bore him no quarter
As thus in Hades did end the final journey of his soul
Beings of terror, dragged him into a fiery hole
The flames never died but neither did he
Suffer in silence did the tyrant, never a plea
Each cell in his body died and was reborn again
Against his chains of thorns did he forever strain
And thus, In vain did he search for a respite
And thus, In pain did he live despite
For the thousandth time when he thought he couldn’t take it anymore
Lo and behold his finger shone through the blackness and gore
Touch his lips did he with the will to sustain
And a tendril of coolness washed away an iota of pain
And thus the tyrant who did not know the meaning of charity
Who Burned in Hades for the rest of eternity
Sustain himself with the touch of the finger
For through all his evils, it was the only good deed that ever did linger
