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The Bittering Of Man

A seed of vengeance sewn within gives birth to bitter roots

Reaching through your sinew spreading sickly tendrils through

Intravenous poison is the harvest that it yields

Bloodstream fit to boiling, bursts, this venom that you wield

Most prevalent of maladies, an ache of violence earned

Darkening the wishes against the enemies you’ve spurned

You play the debtor against a lesser, belied in your view

But a fractal of the woeful pattern here in this milieu

Deeds both grand and loathsome under influence of wrath

What wretched twisting blades have you set along your path

This is all the end complete, your story’s own design

For this pursuit of sweet revenge, you must concede or die.

- Agonodin Morathi of the Seventh Allegienne, Songwielder to the Seraph Verantis

A lament for the failing worlds

Estimated composition 700 years before the fall of Minan.

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