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Grand Master
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About Laisha

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About Me

“For all their power, they are prisoners, as are all their kind. They reside in a moldering dining hall without windows or doors, filled with the stench of decay and death. Its tapestries crumble to dust and cobwebs creep down ceiling and wall to the floor. They sit as a round table of rotted wood. Their garb hangs in ragged tatters, their crowns are corroded and tarnished. On the chipped plate set before each is the left arm of the one beside them. Each holds a rusty knife in their right hand, and with it slices the flesh away from their fellow’s arm, stabs the perverse meat with the tip of the blade, and eats it. For time without end, they are guests at a feast on the flesh of their fellows, trapped in a banquet where their own metallic flesh is the only sustenance to appease their bottomless appetites.”


Damn this living metal flesh
This tormenting prison of grandiose proportions

This body has become my phobia and philia
Masking all sensational lusts and inane afflictions

Cruel is the looming darkness that has the power to mend these wounds

The rider forever plagued to suffer the actions of their benevolent ruler


What am I even but a tool wrapped in this metallic flesh

My reflection hidden behind false courage and a jaded past


What was once a guardian has fallen to the corruption within

Humanity retained and yet serenity to never be achieved


Enduring this life against my own will but of my own accord.

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