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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Fantasy · #1489517
Depicts the relationship between Hylo and his father.
Free


Far below the flaming peaks
In the Marsh that never sleeps
Lived a Dark One in his lair,
Black scales glistening in moist air
         Dreaming of the day he’s free,
         It’s what he’s wanted desperately.

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On my left arm I bear a mark,
A bright green scale among the dark.
But beneath, a secret that can only be bled,
My blood remains untainted red.
         It’s the worst thing for those like me,
         (Because of this I can’t be free.)

Blackened Blood is a gift from our god,
Those without it are viewed peculiar, odd.
Always passed down from father to son,
But alas, for me, it has never been done.
         And so I can never truly be free
         And as an outcast I’ll always be.

My father left a few years back
(He had green scales as well as black).
He’ll pay for what he’s put me through,
For he left me though he always knew
         That without his help I can’t be free.
         I cannot forgive what he’s done to me.


Two years pass, and then he’s found,
It seemed towards Myna he was bound.
But I caught him!  As was my will,
And brimming with you hate prepared to kill.
         “Finally today, I’m truly free!
         There’s nowhere left for you to flee!”

But my father showed no signs of fear,
Even though my intentions were perfectly clear.
“I’m sorry for what I put you through,”
He said, “And how I was never there for you.
         But you cannot kill me now you see,
         For then you could never, truly be free.

“I cannot give that which you seek,
And ‘cause of this you think me weak.
I left to find it, this I swear,
For your hatred of me I could not bear.
         I will return one day to thee,
         And then I swear, you shall be free!”

Four more years pass from that day,
Yes, I let him get away.
And now my son suffers, as had I
For that, I reasoned, my father must die.
         Like me, my son could never be free,
         And that thought pained me terribly.

My anger returned, and I attacked him,
My son shouldn’t suffer because of him!
But when I cut hi, his blood wasn’t red.
He’d retrieved the Gift as he said!
         My son and I could now be free!
         It was as he had promised me.

I forgave him, but it could not last.
We were in war; the enemy came fast.
And my father, weak from our fight,
Perished that day in a blaze of light.
         He sacrificed himself, for my son and for me,
         He sacrificed, so we could be free.
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