There's nothing left of what was once my home
And only shadows haunt its ruined halls.
The broken windows near the shattered dome
Now glare like empty sockets in the walls.
The awful curse that hangs upon my kin
Still reaches out to claim me as its own
In retribution for some unknown sin
So old I don't know how I can atone.
The storytellers will not tell the tale
Of certain nameless deeds done long ago,
And at the merest mention, each grows pale
And warns me there are things I should not know.
Yet, as I stand before this rotting place,
I wonder why the townsfolk fear my face.
© 1997 Christopher B. Hicks
Visit Christopher's Page at Havenshold
First Appearance: Havenshold
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