So hollow is this armor, so thick is its shell
A silent thud, not the heart of a knight
Just my very whisper, too constricted to yell

Black metal moving in the night
Camouflage, the way of the charmeleon
So silent is this voice, like an illegal alien

From out my limbs are pointed ends, thicker than my spine
Protruding from my very back, the way of the porcupine
Spikes and armor, armor and spikes, to keep them all away
Invisible sword and steed, to keep the dragon at bay…

Medusa!

Medusa! Don’t you come hither!
Medusa! Away! Away, you slither!
Medusa! Fork-tongued hisses are thy words!
Keep coming hither, and I’ll slice you in thirds!

The wench, nonetheless, slithered, lunged, and trilled!
Then felled! The way of the serpent!
Felled, not by my empty hands, but my armor and quills!

Her arms wrapped around me in a hug of death…

My bleary eyes I cleared, and peered through my visor

A maiden.

A maiden so nubile and I was none the wiser.

Felled by my empty hands and shell of quills…

Nay! Nay!
The pointed ends!
On my back and limbs!
Inwards they went!
Inwards! Inwards!
Pricking my skin
Pins for sins!
Puncture! Puncture!
Strike me dead, like a cur!
Locked in this body of pins!
Repent and atone for thy-

Dawn, over the hills it broke

Neither of us woke
Not the two bodies laying on the ground
Not the maiden, cold in the bloody gown…
Nor the iron maiden, a soul eternally bound.

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A pile of rusted nails and screws.
Pointed Ends

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