His eyes were blue like sapphires.
His hair resembled snow.
Many would walk by him,
But none of them would know.
His skin was deathly pale,
White wings turning red.
His silver crown had fallen,
Yet was still fixed on his head.
"Hark!" Yelled those who noticed.
"Peace at last!" They cried.
After a deathly silence,
Is when they noticed he had dies.
The silence stayed for a while,
Until a few sobs were heard.
Then more wailing had joined them
From a hoarse blackbird.
His pale skin turned a shade of grey,
Surrounded by a pool of red.
His silver crown had fallen,
Yet was still fixed on his head.
The High-Blood King is dead.
