Oct 2018
Thousands poured into the Great Hall
Waiting
In this haunted, empty room
For something to happen
Nobody sat upon the throne
But order still remained
Maybe it was in the fear
That left them silenced
The throne was industrious
All blunt, sharp lines
Of cold, heartless steel
Fogging up as the peoples’ breaths brushed it
No heat in this desolate hall
Only people’s nervous, frantic heartbeats
Echoed through the room
Marking their place as prey
Footsteps followed
Each step
A quick, sudden staccato
Steady with every beat
The people spun around
Looking for the one that approached them
But there was
No one
Anxiety wrecked through the large hall
Rebounding off of the delicate stone arches
Sailing across the cracked, concrete floor
Filling everyone’s bodies with dread
The footsteps stopped
And their leader materialized onto his cold throne
His gaze held no emotion as he crossed his legs, staring at his people--
Who returned his glare with downturned lids
He bore a crown of silver
Glittering with the madness
Atop a thick forest of black hair
That you could get lost in
His eyes were a dark stormy blue
Appraising his guests
His people
That lay scattered across the hall
A slender frame
Overshadowed by a black velvet cape
And a white collared shirt
Pure of the injuries that he had wronged others
Form fitting grey pants slung tightly over his hips
Along with a matte hand pistol
Further accentuated by his knee high leather boots
That shined with the sweat of a thousand shoe polishers
He was their dictator
They were his people
With a snap
They rose to meet his commands
Without him, they were nothing
He called for disease
Infection spread rampant
the sick fell at his feet
He called for war
The clanging of swords broke out
And wet, hot blood began to coat the slick ground
He called for famine
Hunger gnawed away at the empty, acidic stomachs of the starved
Many fell, glazed eyes betraying their desire for food
He called for death
And suddenly the survivors fell
Only a hundred of the thousand had been left
To die at his feet
The hall was empty of all souls
But one
His
He commanded all that his people could give
And left with nothing to bear
But a single throne
Of cold steel
And an bare skyscraper
With a single, Great Hall
Waiting
In this haunted, empty room
For something to happen
Nobody sat upon the throne
But order still remained
Maybe it was in the fear
That left them silenced
The throne was industrious
All blunt, sharp lines
Of cold, heartless steel
Fogging up as the peoples’ breaths brushed it
No heat in this desolate hall
Only people’s nervous, frantic heartbeats
Echoed through the room
Marking their place as prey
Footsteps followed
Each step
A quick, sudden staccato
Steady with every beat
The people spun around
Looking for the one that approached them
But there was
No one
Anxiety wrecked through the large hall
Rebounding off of the delicate stone arches
Sailing across the cracked, concrete floor
Filling everyone’s bodies with dread
The footsteps stopped
And their leader materialized onto his cold throne
His gaze held no emotion as he crossed his legs, staring at his people--
Who returned his glare with downturned lids
He bore a crown of silver
Glittering with the madness
Atop a thick forest of black hair
That you could get lost in
His eyes were a dark stormy blue
Appraising his guests
His people
That lay scattered across the hall
A slender frame
Overshadowed by a black velvet cape
And a white collared shirt
Pure of the injuries that he had wronged others
Form fitting grey pants slung tightly over his hips
Along with a matte hand pistol
Further accentuated by his knee high leather boots
That shined with the sweat of a thousand shoe polishers
He was their dictator
They were his people
With a snap
They rose to meet his commands
Without him, they were nothing
He called for disease
Infection spread rampant
the sick fell at his feet
He called for war
The clanging of swords broke out
And wet, hot blood began to coat the slick ground
He called for famine
Hunger gnawed away at the empty, acidic stomachs of the starved
Many fell, glazed eyes betraying their desire for food
He called for death
And suddenly the survivors fell
Only a hundred of the thousand had been left
To die at his feet
The hall was empty of all souls
But one
His
He commanded all that his people could give
And left with nothing to bear
But a single throne
Of cold steel
And an bare skyscraper
With a single, Great Hall
