Treachery Gone Afoul Get Low

I've spilled this cold chalice of bitter wine, To let my blood flow over chosen ground. A blade now sharp, shall be a slayer of mine. This curse, by my treacherous heart you found. A tortured duty for a lie composed. It rots with dishonor because I've lied. Betrayed your trust, my evil now exposed. My flesh will decay, your life is now spared. You'll rule this Kingdom with a royal hand. Cruel departure, coat of arms we shared. I die before you, never to command. You call death now, to extinguish my sight. I see in your eyes pain, with no delight. contest Get Low