Ink and ember, whispered vow I signed it then, I own it now No crown was offered, no grand design Just power wrapped in velvet flame A voice that hummed beneath my ribs And softly spoke my hidden name The clergy spit, the nobles sneer They call my art profane and wild Yet when their silver swords all fail They seek the “cursed and wicked” child Every gift demands its due Every spark consumes the night Raise your cup to the warlock’s grin Candlelit and razor thin Not a saint, yet not undone Borrowed stars beneath my tongue I bend the dark but do not kneel The pact is signed — but I hold the quill My patron hums in distant tides Not chains, not master — more a trade A flicker-eyed, pink-gilled smile In shadowed waters where deals are made Snap once — the sigil glows Snap twice — the secret grows Spin the rune and tilt the brim Let the abyss sing low and dim Power is not evil born It mirrors what the heart has sworn If I burn, then let it be On my terms — deliberately Raise your cup to the warlock’s grin Candlelit and razor thin Not your hero carved in stone But I protect what is my own Call it sin or call it art I bargained dark — yet kept my heart When candles fade and debts come due I’ll face the dark I always knew
