Why is it that blood is so thick?
This crimson, dark sheen that makes my blade slick?
Insatiable is the lust for blood which this blade of mine beholds...
Everlasting dark power that feeding it rewards....

Love is dead in the eyes of my blade
The sheath of it walks amongst with eyes of hate
Emitting it's shriek of steel against wind
Mythril can be shattered with the strength of sin



Cimerii de Sangre.

Penned by my hand on the 12th of Midsummer, in the year 86 MA.