Miss born was he in the darkness of the day’s last hour,
underneath the stilled fire mountain that towers..
A child barely alive with a secret once held,
a child born of conflict in two genders weld.
His prison cruel, the she tyrant who reigned,
would bear his scars as he was condemned to pain.
Naught a chance had he in months to come,
when his sibling was slain by what their father had done.
But the treachery was not through yet..
the Traitor’s rage ensued, his birthright lost by theft.
Stolen was he in the break of dawn,
years of pain would come, mother lost her son.
In the fall of the Traitor, the boy went separate ways,
the Beamish bloodline’s lost child fell to insufferable days.
When the bell did toll and the yard gave flood,
the boy found himself cornered, fear coursing through his blood.
Years passed by and grow he did, a Fallen Child was he..
Now enchained in pain and imprisoned by fear’s evil deed.
Still his heart beats through pain, and tyrant’s reign,
a warrior in making is he, to fight for freedom in his vain.
His rage keeps building within his soul,
his mind contorts as treachery takes it’s toll.
Giving blood to razor’s greed,
by predators hands his soul now bleeds.
Ever twisting is his mind,
to leave humanity behind,
to make a stronger monster of he,
who fights not for freedom but for his own glory.
His glory found in his own pain,
to take him from the depth to reclaim his reign.
To stand again on burning wings
a battle cry his heart now sings.
A cry of vengeance proud and pure
resurrects his once buried sword.
Ever beaten down by strife,
he refuses to give up his life.
Nevermore swears he to give to their scorn,
in darkness and under fire was he born…
.
