and gives out because it doesn't know you.
You cannot shy away and hide behind
stained glass windows and Samurai.
The samurai, regal in her gothic armor,
cuts you to the quick and shatters
I am Ronin borne from realized promises
and mirrors spread across ash.
I fear no death in the valley of dark
as I trickle from you. I forge my sword
in the inferno of you and claim
your legacy as my Bushido.
I live because you have already died.
This is our freedom;
my magic is in your blood
it swims in veins that savor it
and release only through torture.
Beginning a journey away from peasantry
where we scream "We are arrived."
We shall arrive as royalty
and turn the macabre dance of demons.