How often have we fought to kill each other?
The only memories I have of you
Are duels—my discipline against your disorder.
Your sense of justice was unnerving, too.

Because of that, you were always in the way.
Scum on the path I tread, you made me slip.
Countless times, you’ve stolen what I crave
To save me from myself, yourself at risk.

I wouldn’t do the same for you. How sad—
Our mother taught kindness before she died.
I never thought I’d say this, but if I had
Listened, would I have your life, and you mine?

Then you call my name. All these musings fade
As I, somehow, smile and draw my blade.