A king never shows his soft side, people may take it as weakness.
That's what they did to me.
They hoped and prayed. Just for the slightest emotion.
I finally shown it. My followers came with swords and fire.
They burned my past filled with love and harmless deeds.
I came to only bring only happiness and warmth.
I came to give them a future worth seeing.
They robbed me of my past and future.
I robbed them of their present and future.
I took up my sword and armor. I gave them my last words, they all heard.
"I bid you farewell to all my followers. Wither you're leaving or staying and dying.
I shall still remain king for the gods choose me to lead."
The battle began. I killed all my followers, but not until they took my armor and burned my home.
They reduced everything to ash and scrap.
My shirt ripped, making it look like it never belonged on a king's back.
I wore these rags proudly for two years. Before I took over another nation.
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Poetry : A King's Poverty
PoetryA description of a king is almost defined by the way there Kingdom is perceive "Perfect" Nobody knows that, the ruler of the Land wears two crowns with two different coronation, One crown is for his might, the other is the side he never shows. As yo...
