I will not lay down, be stepped on, or trampled. As a king adorned in purple this would be unbecoming. To wage a war against a force driven by my own hand would, simply put, be foolish... I have split the arrow in two, but with the bow of another so the feat is not mine to claim. A change in the winds that rush forth from the open wounds that mar my body leave no tree end on. The worst place I have ventured in leaves me distraught and anxious. A coward. Rebuilding when yet another attack looms on the horizon seems fruitless. Long live the King! Alive is the King. Dead yet, are his intentions.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC
I will not lay down, be stepped on, or trampled. As a king adorned in purple this would be unbecoming. To wage a war against a force driven by my own hand would, simply put, be foolish... I have split the arrow in two, but with the bow of another so the feat is not mine to claim. A change in the winds that rush forth from the open wounds that mar my body leave no tree end on. The worst place I have ventured in leaves me distraught and anxious. A coward. Rebuilding when yet another attack looms on the horizon seems fruitless. Long live the King! Alive is the King. Dead yet, are his intentions.
Request permission to use this poem