Crimson liquid warmed my core.
Who was I to deny him more?
We are nothing but pieces of meat,
That only live and breathe to please.
Mother had said, in the house we had last wept,
“One wrong move and you are dead.”
I should have known better, there was no escape.
We were doomed to suffer, and burn in flames.
As I cried out in horror, he rode my pain;
I begged for forgiveness, resigning to my grave.
This was my punishment; I was ashamed.
I deserved no better, I deserved no grace.
A trial, I heard him say.
Disobey me, and you’ll bloody pay.
I pick up the pieces, as mother had hers.
And go about mute; it was demanded of us.
I do remain grateful for his gift,
To serve him longer, as he sees fit.