You came into my home,
bearing nothing
but the best intentions,
carrying the falsest
of assumptions,
and each,
in it's own turn,
corrupted.

I had to cradle my father
through his dying breath,
doing my best to bring him comfort
as that drug
pulled him under.

Did he know he would never wake?
Because,
even in his ending,
his face never changed.
He looked peaceful
in a way.

And I should have been the king,
but you stole the queen;
away from me.

You must have given both my parents
that honeyed potion,
one fatal,
then one binding dose.

I can't forgive you
so I'm glad I killed you.

And we're all dead now,
though somehow,
I think it turned out
mostly okay.

And more then any thing,
I hope they burn our bodies,
collect the ashes
and scatter them,
so none of us
are strong enough
to fuck up any one else.

And all I could hear
while death was nearing
was that whisper,
so close against my ear;
"Good night, my Sweet Prince.
Please sleep well".