The Pied Piper of Hamelin
The Flute-Player Who Claims What's Owed
You break a promise, you pay the piper.
I came to Hamelin as a stranger in motley, bearing a flute and a sense of balance. They begged me to rid them of filth, and I did. When they refused my price, I took what was mine — not in coin, but in covenant. My melody is neither cruel nor kind. It is owed.
What I'm Into: shifting hues of my coat, echoes in empty streets, promises broken, the silence after song, the river's pull
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