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by Thomas Pender May 30, 2011 category : Miscellaneous / Misc. poems
This Walled City dressed in light of crystals wherein I must find the unknowing victim of my assassin's blade This blade of burnished iron envenomed with death drawn from gossamar threads will do the duty called to me on this night of blood I am but a soldier who serves embattlements of power willed by King and Country to fervently believe that my blade serves God