My story is sad yet true I must tell,
Of how lives became crossed and went straight to hell.

The king was a traitor, MacBeth once said,
The witches say by his hands he'll be dead.

I played my role and helped with this deed,
Catered to his every whym, every thought and need.

Pig headed fool brought back the daggers red,
That wasn't the plan, that's not what he said!

Enraged I brought them back and my hands caught a stain,
All for this one and only this feign.

The crimson spot washed away by the pool,
It looked as though it were gone but I played the fool.

It hid from my sight, what a dastardly thing,
To hide this red blot and then make it sing.

Bereft of my sanity, I'll tell you no lies,
Can you not see this blood in my eyes.

The red wine that burned an twisted my flesh,
I knew that I would die a million more deaths.

Give me my silence and give me my peace,
From the west to north and south then east.

I have taken his own so I give him my life,
I offer my heart to end all the strife.

This damn bloody spot will be my last test,
This eternal sleep, last resort, yet best.

And this to my virtue and my beloved here,
Do not ever wonder and please do not fear.

For that what I have taken and what I have left,
I have already soared to my own bloody death.

-Eve Nightingale