You are the daughter of a dark tribe, Your mother predicted your blood would be theirs. All of your features borrowed, disguised in a camouflage No one questioned. Soon, you discovered the spell of your blood, It drove you back to the crimes of your people. Where you embraced magic, Devouring its obscene thrills Making sure your limits, were rings You could exchange on different fingers. Generations later, Your mother watches from a distance, Rivers of a strange blood deliver your first born. He arrives as a fruit fly Your essence is lost, You were warned.
