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 May 2016
The young wolf runs down
Intrigued by the masked woman
Followed by flower vines

She urges him on
Bringing him to the city
She has to show him

Looking at his land
He sees no proud, brave warriors
But a numbed crowd

The Queen leads him home
But the Prince thinks of the crowd
And runs down once more
This is actually the second poem in a series, so I would recommend reading the other poem, "the king of thorns" and the collection description if you feel confused
 May 2016
The tryant rises over the city
The crowd's minds in wiped obedience
The free-people's prince flees swiftly
His savior anonymously leads him in silence

The elder, masked and cloaked, leads,
Thorns following around him,
the child Prince through the weeds
To hiding on the cliff's rim

Twelve years in the mountain
A youthful wolf looks over the river
Thinking he surely would've been slain
Had the king of thorns been any less swifter
I'm making a poem series, so if you enjoyed this, make sure you read the rest of the story!

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