2# Tales of long ago - Sisters.

My wife and her sister, my bane and my strife,

They fight over me, my body and life.

I'm merely the wood, to either their awl,

And pulled one to the other, as rope between all.

My say has no meaning, my choices redundant,

My thoughts on the matter, no use most recumbent.

I'm taken not forced, used in ways of not kings,

My body and mind simply toys, or playthings.

Yet love does not bring, peace to my mind,

I wish not to be shared, married wife not her kind.

Her sister most beautiful, truly most stunning,

An angel, true angel, yet heart of the cunning.

Enticing, convincing, agreed by my wife,

That carnal desire is simply our life.

Never to find, peace in our home,

Both wife and her sister, endlessly roam.

Restless, unsated, unable to sit,

Their pleasure is felt, beating me with a stick.

Forever tormented, I'm never alone,

Nor truly I wish it, desire is known.

My life as a pawn, in their conquest of man,

A simple chess piece, moved from God to Satan.

Yet here I complain, of life such as ours,

Sometimes I need, rest a few hours.

I'm human, hence tired, I'm frail and weak,

I cannot meet, their satanic spawned feats.

Not even for seconds, minutes refined,

To resist them is pointless, and such waste of time.

Despite solemn love, it's held within trinity,

My soul is not spared, its Holy virginity.

And times in our cellar are vicious and cold,

And often my heart left broken, untold.

I'm naked quite helpless, vulnerable, prone,

And taunted by demons, their wish to dethrone.

Of losing my God, my Jesus, my saviour,

And placing my soul, with love, upon Lucifer.

My greatest fear, yet strongest desire,

Combined together, confusion, most dire.

These feelings abused, by sisters demands,

To give up my Jesus, through endless commands;

"Give us your will, your mind's human fallacy,

Ask, nay beg us,

To bite you and turn you,

Ask, ney beg us,

We give you our legacy."

Shackles and chains strained against gift,

Strength useless, pitiful, weak and bereft.

While anchored to wall,

Their mocking cruel laughter most accursed of all.

Their beautiful scent, sweet fruit and lime,

A delicate fragrance, told will to lose mind.

Teeth lingered on throat, gripped desperately tight,

Yet can't take my soul, until I give right.

Despite temptation, at sisters haste,

To take me to Satan, beaten, blooded and abased.

I'm yet to surrender my soul or my will,

I'm yet to pay that final bill.

I cannot utter that final betrayal,

I cannot wound one, so mighty, yet frail.

Clansmen, wife, Satan himself, all await my final tithe,

To turn my back, and shun Lord God on high.

Oh Holy Lord, never let me forget,

My heart is yours, and owed to, in dept.