The armchair stands there;
what not
but an ode to your bloodshed
delicate daisy petals,
tinged of betrayal.
.
Folded hands,
soul sold at your bid;
at your footrest
has been my place, always.
Parting lips,
spoken so few.
Eyes night black have,
watched so long
so much.
.
The tigress shall not be caged,
she was only tamed.
Among the fire of your hate;
pitfalls of the cursed throne
forgotten they have-
of claws sharp;
smeared with mercy.

LOKI