Poetry

War Zone- Poem

I threw myself into the fray

Ready to strike, stab and slay!

In the dangerous play, much to my dismay,

My kin slaughtered; The kingdom ceded

Handed over in a gilded golden tray.

I’m cast Adrift , due to a familial rift,

Would you believe? I still have

warriors to gift and spirits to lift.

Hear the percussions of the death rattle-

Haunting reminders of the long-gone battle.

Alas. I have not a moment to mourn,

The monstrosities acrid fate has thrown.

For I have a land to rule,

And unwilling subjects to school.

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