AN: As per usual, none of the characters belong to me.
My brother,
My sister.
Hansel and Gretel,
Born by the same blood,
But their hands have split too much.
Fru Metu,
Sora Metu,
They kiss each life away with the gunfire of a Browning Automatic Rifle.
Not daring to shout,
Not daring to breath.
Their love was eternal-
Much as they saw their own lives.
Their sprigs, barely even sprouted,
Were soiled in the remnants of pain,
And their innocence but sandcastles long since washed into the sea.
They were to each other,
An oasis among hot sands
Burning with the malice and greed
Of those to corrupt to understand.
Comprehend they could not.
But not a soul empathized.
And so they go on,
Killing,
Hurting,
Drowning.
Then Balalaika shot them down,
Said they got what they deserved.
And although they dies apart,
We smiled,
Knowing they would meet again,
Simply in the world of midnight.