A prince among his people viewed without respect,
fuchsia, yellow, and others in between deny his prospect.
But he understood what no one understands,
cast into a hell of angels, the deadliest of lands.
Still without his people things grow increasingly grim.
His hope becomes drained and withered, a phantom limb.
It will ache and throb but feel nothing more.
With all his hope gone he seeks a deal with Noir,
and when he comes for his people, asking them to repent,
they react with weapons bared and the prince's wrath augments.
Now he's in a place that he cannot understand,
a place where hope does everything but withstand.
And from here our prince of violet makes his turbulent descent.
Jade, yellow, and fuchsia spill to sate his unwavering malcontent.

YOU ARE READING
Violet Prince
PoesíaA short poem of Eridan Ampora. This is my first actual attempt at story telling poetry so bear with me.