The Anomaly of Irony.

Rolling through a bloody mess, my master died alone no less. His mercy was indeed a lie, he said I lived but now will die. His hand was swift with a mighty stroke, within a thought my life was broke. Oh how I lived, and he knew not, but now I lay...my life to rot. No foot, nor hand could move a limb, Three days old and no sign of him. And then he came at my wits end, With strength alone I cant defend. He lift me up and broke my jaw, Just to laugh as I hit the floor. He took a blade and made a fist, stabbed his flesh, his vein, his wrist. Now you're dead and now you're mine, drink from me and you'll be fine. I could not stand my masters site, I killed him quick with my own bite.