The anomaly of irony.
Rolling through a bloody mess,
my master died alone no less.
His mercy was indeed a lie,
he said I lived but now will die.
His hand was swift with a mighty stroke,
within a thought my life was broke.
Oh how I lived, and he knew not,
but now I lay...my life to rot.
No foot, nor hand could move a limb,
Three days old and no sign of him.
And then he came at my wits end,
With strength alone I cant defend.
He lift me up and broke my jaw,
Just to laugh as I hit the floor.
He took a blade and made a fist,
stabbed his flesh, his vein, his wrist.
Now you're dead and now you're mine,
drink from me and you'll be fine.
I could not stand my masters site,
I killed him quick with my own bite.