by Nick Gisburne
Linguistico can kill you with a word,
A superhuman power all his own.
Appalling tingles. Visions, boiling, blurred.
Excruciating heat in every bone.
No flame, no force, was ever truly felt
More deeply than such evil. As it grips,
The victim, in a pool of pain, will melt,
Succumbing to the language of his lips.
For decades only fools would face his rage,
Linguistico, deliverer of death,
But no one, even he, expected age
To sabotage the power of his breath.
The weapon of the word was always his,
But now he can’t remember what it is.
