"windhelm" poems
Lurking in the shadows,
Dagger on his right hand
He doesn’t play the right way
A bow in his back,
Some coins in his purse
But these coins are not his.
He’s heading to a store
But it’s not to buy.
The only words that he knows are
**** and Rob.
He puts up his ebony dagger
The dark elf gives his coins
The thief says:
“Is that it?”
The elf responds:
“Yes. It is.”
The thief walks in into the inn
Put the purse on top of the table
The woman hands him a beer
He picks it up and drinks
A man came to him and said:
“GET OUT OF MY INN!!!”
3 seconds later the man falls and dies
The thief gets up and says:
“Another stupid nord wants to go”
No one said anything
And the thief walks out.
On the city of Windhelm
The night is cold.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 9:31 PM UTC