5 of Swords: No Honour Amongst Thiefs


Let me tell you a story

about three sisters dressed in gold,

their heels sharp as their whispers,

their bags heavy with labels

and hearts hollow with envy.


They walked through the world

with glitter dripping from their fingers,

yet their spirits were rusted iron.

They were raised on stolen things,

raised on competition

raised on a hunger that never softened.


And then there was the young lady

quiet as dawn

soft as a sigh after rain

carrying nothing but the clothes on her back

and the light she did not know she carried.

They could not bear the sight of her.

It bruised something inside them.


“Who does she think she is?”

they hissed into each other’s shadows

plotting to tear the innocence from her skin

to snatch the little she owned

to humiliate her for breathing.

Not because she wronged them

but because peace offended them.


But here is the catch

that wicked little twist

the universe always keeps tucked in its sleeve.

Though they hated her

they hated each other more.

Three sisters

bound not by love

but by the gravity of their own bitterness.


They slandered each other’s names

gossiped behind closed doors

sent curses like poisoned arrows

tripping over their own schemes.

It is strange how hate can unite

what love could never hold together.


They tried to cast shadows on the young lady

but their shadows circled back

like storms with a broken compass

crashing down on their own heads.

Their secrets burst into daylight

their masks fell like cracked porcelain

and suddenly

the world could see it all.


They began stealing from each other

plotting against their own blood

sending venom in every direction

except the one they aimed for.

Their plan simply dissolved

vanished in thin air

as if it never existed.


And the young lady?

She learned the truth not by searching

but by listening.

Each sister came to her separately

venting their grudges

revealing the very traps

they once dug for her.

She sat there in disbelief

realizing the storm that tried to swallow her

instead swallowed itself whole.


While the sisters sank

into the quicksand of their own resentment

the young lady walked forward quietly

her path clear

her hands clean

her spirit untouched.


What a tale

what a tragedy

what a lesson written in human form.

The three sisters

lost in hatred

chasing a woman

who never even turned to look back.

What a shame indeed.

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