A Mother’s Love

I see him limp home, his arm torn from his shoulder,
mumbling weird words about a mighty stranger,
some foreign crazed killer with unimaginable strength.
I watch him die, mourn his passing like a mother,
the power of whose love is only surpassed
by her passion for revenge, rage ten times worse
than that of some woman scorned. So I go and seek
this vaunted warrior but cannot find him there
in their hall packed with dainty heroes. Disappointed,
nonetheless, I settle for second best, tear to tattered shreds
the homegrown hailed battler of that sorry bunch,
slaughter him with skillful ease, leave my motherly message
for the missing champion to mull over until we meet.
Hardly appeased I return to my lair, seethe over my son,
tear my hair and keen at losing him this way.
Exhausted from killing, I toss in violent sleep,
dream their foreign champion comes upon me,
and I wake to find it so. Daring to bring the battle to me,
this accidental tourist will suffer now savagely,
I fulfilling my motherly duty by eviscerating this visitor.

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