Battles raged on for
the cold, iron throne.
Kings were slaughtered
of origins, unknown.
Misery and death,
that’s what it bred.
That throne, so cold,
to destruction, it led.
Rebels had risen
to claim the throne
whose kingdom from hatred
had slowly grown.
The hunger for power,
the thirst to rule.
The throne turned
the wisest, into a fool.
The land was soaked
with blood that was shed.
That throne, so cold,
to destruction, it led.
In a kingdom built of hate,
with pillars of lies,
stands the cold, iron throne
as it’s glorious prize.
Game of Thrones, anyone?