Pain

When I took that blade
Through the gut
When it burned my fingers
And carved from me my home

I thought the greatest pain
The cruelest loss
Was done

I thought the soul
The piece that makes mortals

That makes mortals

The piece that makes mortals strong

Was borne of mercy
Of kindness
Softness
Friendship.

I see now that the blade
Was simply a taste
Of the bloodshed to come.
The self-righteous knowing
Of mortal souls
Is made of the same stuff
As the chains guarding my realm

And will crumble just as easily.

I pity him still.