Spoils That Await The Wicked: Three

Three: The Tormented Sibling

Woe to my sister
Who has felt many grievous notes
And endured such horrors the mind can conjure.
She looked to me with so much love,
Unknowingly tested my creations,
My woven spells.

A hapless pawn who knew not
From where the torment came.
She had tasted my barbed tongue much
So cruel the words,
That sin itself
Was not deserving of such lamentations.

A great void my soul was
Into which I fed the sorrow
Of those tied to me by blood.
Like a beast whose hunger grows
With every meal,
My tormenting worsened.
My sister, as such a convenience to me,
Received such barbed and poisoned arrows.

Thirteen strangled years she suffered
My incantations and torturing shadow
Under a wing of false shelter.
I protected her from nothing
And dug out her faith with my bare hands.
All the while she looked at me
As protectorate.

And in her folly,
Reached her hand out for help.
I, such a fledgling follower,
As a final act of betrayal,
Took her hand, and led her kindly to the grave.
In her final look upon me,
Before the coffin was nailed
She cast aside her precious ignorance
And beheld me as the heretic I was.

A mouth filled of wax speaks none,
And she settled quickly and loyally
Into silent earth.
With my great experimenter gone,
I left the house like a cold wind.
A portion of me had been laid to rest
With my unfortunate sister.

Though I burned her at the stake
To promote my standing within the following
I loved and envied her greatly.
Her death brought not the joy it should have
For our parents looked upon her
Beautifully and pitifully.