Piece 36: Her Life Was Her Most Important Performance

.        Like a script of a play
.               She declared her lines with stage direction on the side.
.                                              Scribbled notes in the margins, to be referenced later.
.           A story unto herself, an enigma unwritten.
.                  The acts of her life, a storyteller’s dream.
.            Filled will suffering and bleakness,
.                      Overcome by her passion for the arts.
.                                                                             a i r
.         Her voice when spoken carries in the
.              And >>impacts>> eardrums, resonating with those enraptured.
.  The slightest movement exaggerated, and purposeful
.                        Is felt by the audience as if she were acting only for them.
.     A myriad of emotions expressed and absorbed according to her whim.
.                                       Spellbound, they watch.
.                                They cry for her, laugh with her
.                       And become indignant when she is slighted.
.                                                                                               Alone, she was broken.
.                            While acting she’s part of a whole.
.               A freedom found in the lives of parts,
.                             Opening the way for personal healing.
.                      Allowing her to blossom,
.                  And become what she had always dreamed.

Piece 6: The Final Debt

Carmine mist plays off the darkened waves
As mans’ haunts rise from their sunken graves.
Festering corpses broached the dark water
Seeking out a ship to commence their slaughter.
Mages emit spells over the crashing seas
Realisation strikes as they meet death’s disease
Blood chokes their throats as they try to shriek.
Their magic cut off with their ability to speak.

A rain of bolts shower from soldiers’ crossbows
Piercing the dead flesh of the unvanquishable foes.
Terror sets in as their fate becomes known.
Tears mingle with water, soaked to the bone.
A maelstrom forms and tosses the horrors aboard
Warriors of Right whimper at Evil’s horde.
Rot caressed the deck, the swords cut in.
Far too close, they can see the demons’ grin.

The the vile carcasses bathe in their gore,
As the massacred vessel drifts in to shore.
A village lays peacefully upon the strand
The leader of the curséd dead raised his hand.
A slight flick of his wrist and its in flame.
The thirsty conflagration but a mere game.
Men up in arms, face their own regret.
The village’s deaths fulfilled their final debt.