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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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