There is a legend that I tell,
Of a creature born straight of hell.
Eyes of ember showing nothing,
Claws of knives not worth trusting.
It reaches out to me,
My mind telling me "Flee".
It stands there not showing,
In its mind knowing,
Who I am and why I'm here,
Now I shift showing little fear.
As I draw my mark in the air,
It strikes without a care.
I fall to the ground,
My fate is bound.
