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Mar 2012
A man whose name was carved in stone,
his bloodlust - a mountain, unknown - the peak.
The wolf dyed deep into his very bone,
to each theatre of war does he seek.
Each emperor becomes a trade,
barter gold, purchase steel, sell red.
Battlefields become eternal, bodies soon fade,
a tribute to vultures with unending dead.

Strew flowers in wake of chains,
bow before a once hated king,
catch a glimpse atop battlements.
A trusted solider without reigns,
loyalty in his eyes – a sin,
past bonds only exist as remnants
Alex Crilly-Mckean
Written by
Alex Crilly-Mckean
1.4k
 
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