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Hook Handed Boy
Through the opulent corpse of my castle he did wander,
His eyes agog with awe and wonder.
His heart cruel, twisted and bleak as it be,
Skipped a beat of joy as he spotted me.
His greedy eyes set upon and yet I made no attempt to hide,
Though If I were to blame bravery I would have lied.
I had kept a bead of hope that my blood ties would have calmed him,
But he cared not for friends or the value of kin.
I cleared my throat and made to beg, to plead for my life,
But I found no remorse in the boy whose eyes shone with strife.
He raised his right arm to show the cruelty he had in store,
To remind me of my own cruelty when his mother had rapped on my door.
I gazed at the arm and the stump upon its end,
And with fear I witnessed the hook with which my flesh he would rend.
His hand lopped off as a boy by own cruel word,
Replaced with a foul tool to deliver me from this world.
He gazed for a moment, his mouth agape, at the ornate trinkets of my domain,
His life of suffering and anguish to see for all, to know his pain. .
He had been forged in the streets and gutters,
Where life ended not with a cry but a mutter.
The boy should never have survived,
His best man had even promised they both had died.
But despite the mother laying her sweet head deep below the ground,
The boy now stood very much alive not breathing a sound.
We stared at each other his hook oozing freshly spilled blood,
My eyes awash as the tears did flood.
And now I knew why he had entered this rotten lair,
I knew now my life would be ended by my one true heir.
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