Unspoken Laws by Rhi
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You won't die in bed
of old age.

You won't die of old age at all,
or peacefully,
although an ambush in bed is a possibility.
It won't end in fire
or ice,
but lightning and blood.

Odds are?
You'll be murdered.

Flesh of your flesh, blood of your bone --
this you will never have.
Never raise nor leave,
praise nor grieve.

Which doesn't mean you can't love.

Everyone you love is dangerous:
Children can be hostages,
lovers become enemies,
friends become foes.

Not loving is more dangerous still.

You'll hear lies --
some neither little,
nor white.
You'll tell more of them than you'd ever believe.
You won't always know truth when you hear it,
and you won't always tell it,
because no one would believe.
Or, maybe,
because it would be worse if they did.

You may hear voices.
You may wish, after,
that you hadn't killed them,
or that you'd killed their killer sooner.

You'll learn to make peace with yourself,
because the alternative
is a war you can't win.

You'll find your own reasons
to live,
to kill,
to love,
to die.
Or you'll die trying.

You knew about swords and knives,
but these are the real edges.

This is what it means
to be immortal.