Sometimes she thinks death must be a pretty thing.
How else could she lose, not one, but two lovers to its lurid embrace?
Leaving her with only grief-sick remembrances of a love forbidden and secreted thrice. Now ever-protected in dual demise.
In her dreams, they hold her still. As tears tremble-tumble in silent requiem.
Tangled in their dreamscape limbs she longs to fade and return to the waiting arms of her lovers two.
Only for her children, her sons, does she remain. One of her blood, but both of her love, their twofold hate is enough to send her weeping.
The younger is Inu no Taisho remade, but it's the elder who most resembles his father. A notion he would steadfastly deny.
Envy-tainted, he wraps himself in hate-tattered, sneering openly at his father's lapse.
Unknowing, denying, that once, it was his mother's as well.