In a realm where shadows endlessly unfurl,
Beneath the weight of iron clouds that swirl,
There lies a tale, old as time itself,
Of twisted hate, that thrives on dust and shelf.

In twilight hours when silence reigns supreme,
And whispers haunt the corridors of dream,
A seed of spite is sown in fertile ground,
Where once pure love and kindness could be found.

The story starts in ancient, fractured lands,
With battles waged by ruthless, bloodied hands.
A king once noble, driven by his greed,
Turned heart to stone, and planted loathsome seed.

Beneath the spires of a forgotten throne,
Where mercy’s light had never truly shone,
A child was born of fire and of pain,
To carry forth a lineage stained and slain.

Her name was Seraphine, a name of grace,
Yet in her eyes, a darkness took its place.
Abandoned in a world so cold and stark,
Her tender heart was kindled into dark.

The streets she walked, where shadows dared to play,
With echoed cries of those who’d lost their way,
Did shape her mind with twisted, ruthless hate,
Her soul a mirror of her woeful fate.

Her laughter, once so innocent and bright,
Now echoed like a raven in the night.
She found in vengeance solace for her strife,
Embracing shadows, sacrificing life.

Her hands, so small, could wield destruction's flame,
And in her wake, she left a path of shame.
The twisted hate consumed her every breath,
Her heart a prisoner, sentenced to death.

Yet somewhere deep within that prisoned core,
A memory of love forevermore,
Did flicker faintly, like a dying spark,
A hope that might dissolve the endless dark.

In midst of battle, ‘neath a blood-red moon,
She crossed a stranger, neither late nor soon.
A warrior, brave, with eyes of emerald green,
Who saw in her what others had not seen.

He called her name, with voice so calm and clear,
And in his tone, she sensed no trace of fear.
For he had walked the path of shadows deep,
And knew the pain that Seraphine did keep.

Their swords did clash, yet words were softly spoken,
Of wounds and scars, and spirits almost broken.
Through fire and hate, a bond began to grow,
Of understanding, born of mutual woe.

He spoke of love, a force so pure and strong,
That heals the deepest wounds and rights the wrong.
In every touch, a promise to redeem,
The shattered soul, and end the haunted dream.

Yet twisted hate, a beast not easily tamed,
Did roar within her, wild and unashamed.
It clawed and fought to hold her in its grasp,
As she reached out, with trembling, hopeful clasp.

The battle raged within her fragile heart,
A war of light and dark, of whole and part.
She fought to free herself from hate’s embrace,
And find redemption in that stranger’s face.

With every tear, a step towards the light,
She struggled through the darkness of her night.
Her soul, a battlefield of love and hate,
As destiny did carve a path of fate.

The stranger stood beside her in the fray,
A beacon in her night, a light of day.
His words a balm to soothe her aching soul,
And in his eyes, she saw a glimpse of whole.

Yet shadows whispered, urging her to fall,
To let the twisted hate consume her all.
They promised power, vengeance sweet and pure,
But in her heart, she knew there was no cure.

For hate is poison, slow to kill and cruel,
It blinds the wise and turns the kind to fool.
She saw her future in its twisted snare,
A life of endless pain and deep despair.

With one last cry, she banished hate’s dark shade,
Embracing love, though sorely she was afraid.
The stranger’s hand in hers, a lifeline strong,
They stepped into the light where they belong.

The tale of Seraphine, of hate and love,
Is whispered now by stars in skies above.
A story of redemption, hard and true,
Of twisted hate, and love that sees it through.

For in each heart, a seed of both does lie,
And in our choices, darkness will defy.
Though twisted hate may seek to hold its claim,
Love’s gentle touch can light the fiercest flame.

In every soul, a battle must be fought,
Of twisted hate, and love, and what is sought.
To conquer darkness, one must find the grace,
To see the light in every hidden place.

So listen well, and heed this ancient lore,
Of Seraphine, and love forevermore.
For though the shadows ever creep and wait,
It’s love that triumphs over twisted hate.
© ashh